Antiquated Love: Defying the Cycle
by Detective-Mason
Summary: After the Normandy disbanded, Brandon took off with Kasumi for a life of crime and thievery. Six months were spent learning the trade from his girlfriend; even enjoying it. Despite their happiness, a cloud hung over them in the shape of a Reaper. When war was inevitable, will love keep them sane from the atrocities ahead? New and old faces appear throughout the fight. Adult themes.
1. Ch1: Partners in Crime

**SIX MONTHS BEFORE THE REAPERS**

Bekenstein, the human's Illium as the asari say, towered over the once agricultural soil; casting its light across the landscape. It was a symbol of humanity's firm foot into the galactic trade with luxuries that beckoned all species. Its large towers stretched into the air and glinted like a real-life Emerald city. Much like the fairytale, the city's bright exterior hid the tycoons flaunting their wealth and power. Some achieved through aggressive business tactics. Others from deceit and blackmail. A place where the suicide rate, be it confirmed or presumed, was higher than any other world. And in one part of the city, where the spotlights danced rays of white beams into the sky, the best and worst gathered in a glittering showcase that could rival an opening film debut.

The lights illuminated the streets as scores of people walked towards the West Highland Hall. The architecture exhumed wealth. It spanned a quarter mile of elaborate stone walls and marble columns harking back to Earth's late 19th century. Unfortunately, the integrated blue neon and glowing, floating orbs diffused the illusion. The clientele arriving in their private skycars certainly didn't represent "respected" dignitaries. A human playboy with an asari on each arm. A formally dressed asari with a human woman around each arm. A famous hanar actor with a female drell and an asari wrapped in tentacles. At the very least, it was cosmopolitan.

An extended limo landed gracefully at the edge of the red carpet. Its tinted windows obscured any onlooker to the driver or its chauffeured passenger. The extra-long door automatically slid open and black leather boots touched the fabric. When the guest completely exited the vehicle, his long black coat fell to his calves. Suited black pants held his form. An ivory colored dress shirt with a high stand-up collar accompanied the outfit; complementing the white embroidery outlining the satin black lapels of his frock coat. He breathed in the cool, brisk air. Real air; not filtered oxygen from ships and stations. Faint hints of natural vapor left his mouth as opposed to the clouds of tobacco floating around him. His footsteps were planted if not militaristic as he approached the security check.

"Pardon me, sir. May you please remove your sidearm?"

The young security clerk met the hawk-like stare of the guest and swallowed the lump that had built in his throat. With a blink of his eyes, the guest calmly produced a long custom pistol and placed it on the table. It wouldn't fold into itself like most pistols would. It was a solid piece of engineering. The slide spanned the barrel to the end of the grip which swept back like an old LeMat revolver. On that slide, the name _Arondight_ was engraved in elegant cursive. It's stainless steel frame glinted in the light and grabbed a few glances of envious patrons. Custom weapons, tailored suits, trophy wives or husbands; most people of this caliber preferred showing off everything. However, the emphasis was on show. Rarely did someone even know how to handle something like a firearm properly. Usually most employed their security drones to do the grunt work. What made the pistol so alluring was the obvious fact that, though cleaned and polished, it showed signs of extensive use. The slight wear on the edge of the slide from repeatedly entering and exiting a holster. The finish that had lost its luster close to the thermal port ejector. It was a very telling glimpse of his reputation.

The guard raised his omni-tool from head to toe of the new guest. No buzzes or alarms occurred during the scan.

"Thank you. You may take back your pistol, Mister…"

"Gunn," he said with an iron voice, "Solomon Gunn."

"Yes, um…enjoy your time, Mister Gunn."

"I'm certain I will."

Two clean cut men in fine tuxedos opened the doors leading to the main gallery. A glass of champagne was already off a waiters' tray and in the guest's hand like it had been waiting for him. Knowing how much a single bottle must cost gave him reason to enjoy one for free. While sipping the fizzing alcohol was far from unpleasant, it gave him a moment to scan the room; marking out the furthest exits, assessing the numerous guards, and how open the space really was.

The room spanned three stories tall and mirrored the exterior with dabs of technology as a reminder it was a reproduction. A large chandelier hung in the middle of the hall, casting sparkling light in all directions; compliments to the white cylinder of element zero providing its illustrious glow. It resembled an upside down wedding cake, but would flare outward at the tops of each tier. When it came to fashion and style of the big four, no one did it better like the humans and asari. The turian military lifestyle left little for artistic expression, though it can't be said turians weren't artists with their weaponry. There was a reason the _Normandy_ was a blend of both human and turian design. As for the salarians, spending more than a few years on art could be seen as a waste of life. They preferred their numbers, science, and studies.

Carrying over the conversations between patrons was a string orchestra. A pair of women, an asari and human, played in sync with their violins. The female turian beside them on her viola. An asari pulled her bow across a cello accompanied by another human woman her on double bass. They wore their own race's version of a gown, but all matched in shimmering silver with blue highlights. Species was irrelevant as the ensemble played with elegance and beauty. It was a shame the genuine artists would more than likely be ignored by the pompous attitudes in the house.

"Excuse me," such an attitude proclaimed, "I can tell you are a man of fine taste."

"Looks can be deceiving," Gunn said flatly to his knew acquaintance.

Said acquaintance was a man fitted in a tailored, charcoal suit. Bald with white hair circling his crown. A face that spoke a certain experience gained from knowing more than those he dealt with. A proper shark.

"Quite. Elijah Khan," he said stretching his hand.

"Solomon Gunn."

The two men shook, though Khan nearly flinched at the strength of his potential customer.

"You sport a mighty fine pistol I must say," as Khan eyed the butt peeking out from Gunn's coat, "Don't think I've ever come across anything such as that."

Without tearing away his eyes, Gunn slid his coat back completely revealing his sidearm.

"Custom. Goes back to the days before thermal clips. Retrofitted now, of course. Twice the power of your best Carnifex. Clip magazine's tuned up to eleven. And if you aim right will put down anyone in one shot. A charging krogan…five."

"You speak from experience. I can tell. You wouldn't believe the ones who boast about what they can't even lift."

Gunn held his tongue if he should consider Khan in that category.

"And what do you boast?" he said instead.

The devious smirk from Khan spoke volumes.

"Alliance's Offensive Handgun Project."

"Never heard about it."

"That's the point."

Khan glanced around subtly before he moved his jacket to the side. A sleek, black pistol was seated in a shoulder sling.

"M-11. May look like your standard Carnifex, but the number of parts have been reduced. Saves on manufacturing costs. Lightens the firearm without sacrificing performance. You can build three pistols for the cost of two."

It was hard for Gunn not to look at the weapon with an appraising eye.

"I imagine the lightness increases the recoil."

"Nothing a good marksman can't compensate," the seller complimented without saying so, "The suppressor itself has a built-in integral sound moderator reducing noise and muzzle flash."

"Quite a package. I was unaware that a feature was legal in Council space. Privately, of course."

Khan smiled as if he knew the question before it was asked.

"I could sell items like these to the batarians on contract for twice the price. But I only deal high quality goods to the right people. Sometimes it's the gray areas of legality that keeps people like you and me able to defend our assets," the gun dealer countered as smooth as any good salesman.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," he lied.

With a quick flick on Elijah's omni-tool, a link was sent to Gunn's own.

"If you are interested in furthering any procurement, I own Apollo's Casino. It's on the Silverstun strip of the Citadel."

"I foresee a meeting in the near future, Mr. Khan. Perhaps a game of roulette will also be in order."

"Indeed. Though as a rule, I never gamble my own money."

Elijah Khan walked away utterly pleased with himself. Gunn took a gulp of his champagne to wash the distaste from his mouth and proceeded into the mingling swarms. Much like the orchestra, species was no issue in this room. They all shared one common trait: credits and a lot of them. Wealthy business giants. Lineage successors. Corrupt CEOs. Crime lords. Drug and weapons dealers. As long as they had the credits they were king, hence an incentive to join the party. That made it all the more dangerous. It was a hazard who just had some extra credits and who had a finger on a trigger. Intent and motive was one thing, but it doesn't take much to be a prick in this clientele.

On the outside, it appeared as an art and artifact auction and to its credit was true. All well and documented goods, but there were items not on the list. Illegal weapons caches. Questionably obtained goods. Collector's items of those unfortunate enough to have suddenly disappeared. With this many different kinds of people, there were back door deals all around. And always completely legal. If there was ever a seemingly worthless piece of art meeting insanely high auction prices, it could be assumed there was more than just what was being exchanged. The credits transacted were legal. With whatever item was won, certain shipments were sent to the buyer with no paper trail. Sometimes categorized as a gift or donation. The worst were the ones who believed the auctions which were going to be benefitting a charity. Not a chance. Just another tag line to sucker in the unsuspecting bidder. Sometimes the charity benefitting an orphanage was actually credits to a slaver gang. The irony had no bounds.

"Aren't you a tall drink of water?"

That voice. He turned almost too quickly to find it. Through all the people moving throughout, his eyes were fixed on a woman wearing a very familiar dress. It was the same dark violet he remembered and the same woman he'd never forget. The only woman who could get his heart racing so fast so easily.

"And aren't you just a sight for sore eyes," he said, trying to regain his cool, "Solomon Gunn."

"Really?" questioned the woman, "I've worked with an Alison Gunn. Any relation?"

"No, but I've heard she has quite the reputation."

"She's dabbled in a few operations around the traverse. But whenever you need her she always has to go."

They both chuckled.

"Well then," she said after swiftly grabbing a glass from a passing waiter, "here's to us. New friends."

Gunn hummed in agreement and lightly chimed his glass to hers. It had to be said, the drink of champagne was more a necessity to stop his throat from drying out. His eyes raked down her figure as intimate reminders flooded his memory. Her jet black hair was draped just over her face hiding one of her deep brown eyes. Whether from habit or selfishness, it was a bit disappointing seeing her so exposed. Only in private…with him…was she ever not hiding. Then again, even here and now, she was hiding…just in plain sight. And extremely eye-catching.

He wasn't the only one admiring the newfound company. She stole glances as she drank from her champagne. It was hard not to notice his hair slicked back from gel and not sweat. His stance was straight, confident, and filled his attire too well. A proper gentleman with his own retro flair. But when their eyes met her smile fell briefly. They were baby blue. Smart she had to admit, but it just didn't fit him. She missed the real color she yearned to stare into.

"So what brought you to this lovely gathering?" he asked.

"You don't turn down a chance to observe such priceless artworks. Shall we?"

Her arm slinked right around his and the pair walked up the gallery spanning across the hall. Priceless artifacts surrounded the room from various planets. Once again, artistry was the rare form of culture tonight. Even if ulterior motives were being cast, the art and artifacts were genuine and intriguing.

Propped against the wall was a large asari painting; oil based with illustrious brushstrokes. It was an image of the goddess Athame. She hovered from the sky with her long white robe flowing behind her; almost like the Christian viewing of angels coming down from the sky. She glowed blue and it seemed to flow off her body like waves of fire in zero gravity: beautiful. It flowed over the onlookers on the ground and brightened the shadows they were kept under. It was a very elegant piece and emitted a peaceful vibe. One thing about asari artwork was that certain eras seemed too perfect. With a thousand year life span, they could afford to be very meticulous and do several versions. It was what impressed the asari about human artwork. In a lifespan less than a hundred years, humans could make pieces as breathtaking as the Mona Lisa. It truly represented a lifelong pursuit to art which the asari greatly respected.

One piece of turian art, bigger than some of the limos outside, was on display. Silver metal jutted out from different angles in an apparent mangled masterpiece. For Gunn, it more or less resembled very elaborate shrapnel, but turian art was as much a rarity as it was an oddity. Upon closer inspection, it was crafted from actual turian dreadnoughts lost in the Relay 314 Incident, or the First Contact War for humans. It certainly gave much more significance than previously thought. Unfortunately, any ego hungry humans would want this piece not because of the representation of loss and heroic sacrifice, but rather a piece showing off humanity's abilities against one of the most powerful navies in the galaxy.

Another large display was certainly more artifact than art, but it was hard to argue it wasn't beautiful. It was a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air coupe. It's chrome shimmered with its unmolested baby blue paint showing the reflections of enamored viewers. It was relic from the times of gasoline powered modes of transportation until the fuel scare of 2052. It was the final straw pushing the shift from oil to hydrogen-electric and liquid electric. It wasn't until 2055 when a synthetic gasoline substitute was created, but in three years many had scrapped or converted internal combustion vehicles. It was the few and desirable that survived. And in the case of the near-mint specimen at the party, very desirable. Even asari and salarians were drawn by its charm despite its primitiveness.

Much smaller items were seated in glass cases among the room. Small trinkets, but some worth more than the larger items. A small set of architectural tools worth over fifty thousand credits. Worn, but no signs of rust or deterioration. Quality that showed they were built to last for generations. The high price because they were genuine quarian tools from Rannoch. How they were obtained remained speculative. The tragedy, it was highly unlikely to see a quarian trying to purchase them tonight. Beside the tools were a set of Matriarch Dilinaga's writings from the golden age of asari exploration. Their procurement came two years ago from an anonymous donator. Some claim it was an asari Justicar while other rumors stated it coming from a Council Spectre.

Weapons had their own category. The ancient ones had attracted many eyes, but mostly the male ones. One of the first turian rifles was on display and had many mandibles flaring. A few cartridge based weapons from Earth garnered attention; representing different eras of different wars. The centerpiece was a very large hammer mounted on a long staff. It dated to the krogan after their civilization had engaged in nuclear war. Legend goes, the hammer was given to the salarian team by the battlemaster in charge of the most powerful clan of Tuchanka. It was a sign of peace between the two races and as thanks for uplifting the krogan to the new galaxy. Only history would reveal the ulterior motives that overshadowed that notion of "peace".

So many wonderful pieces, but there was one that caught Gunn's eye. It was a Japanese Tanto; a straight, single-edged blade stretching twenty-five centimeters. Thick cross sections that could pierce armor with ease and could slice flesh with little force. A smooth, black handle completed its stealthy appearance. It laid in its glass prison waiting for a new owner. It wouldn't be for him, but he wondered about who would enjoy it immensely.

"Oh. Look at that," the young lady pointed.

Gunn looked at the glass case sporting its own pedestal and a heavily armed guard on each corner. Seated in a plush pad of red velvet was a diamond the size of a miniature pinecone. It sparkled in the light from its clear crystals and grasped envious eyes from passing patrons. No race was immune from its charm and beauty. The only deterrent was its starting bid price a hundred million credits; well under what it could fetch.

"The Millennium Star," she said, "It's one of the most valuable diamonds in the galaxy. Two hundred three carats. A genuine jewel from Earth, making it that little bit desirable."

"You like shiny things, don't you? I don't imagine it'll be easy to get. Bidders will be slitting each other's throats for it."

"Oh they will. Asari do love their gems. I can foresee a few turians trying to macho the other out to get a new gift for their mate. There have been numerous attempts to steal it. The earliest back in the twenty-first century, but the robbers were foiled before they had the chance."

"Amateurs?"

"Oh no. Anyone who goes after the most expensive, most guarded, and most watched treasure will make themselves infamous. When it happens is irrelevant. Look around you. Everyone is focused on it. Guards, security cameras, those who want it for themselves. They are so narrowly focused that they wouldn't realize someone has taken anything else from right under their noses."

"Misdirection?"

"Exactly. Like a magic trick. Houdini made an entire elephant disappear in front of a huge audience when it never left the stage. They just believed what their eyes showed them and didn't think to look beyond the curtain."

She swiveled her drink gazing along.

"Now look at that," as she stepped away from the diamond.

A singular item was in its own glass case. It didn't reflect like the diamond. It didn't catch the eyes of the crowd. It didn't have shotgun wielding men. The gold script along the divided spine was ink, not real. All there was to see was its red goatskin cover shielding the yellowed pages within it. Yet, the woman looked with a reverence in her eyes that could rival the most glowy-eyed quarian.

"All of Mr. Shakespeare's comedies, histories, and tragedies in 454 pages. An original John Smethwick second folio edition and one of the scarcest imprints of all. Nearly 450 years old and it's here, now, on another planet no less. This is a man whose work has been translated into every language in the known galaxy. How many things from 1632 can you say that about?"

"Dunno," as Gunn shook his head, "Truly ahead of his time."

"I prefer a man who shaped our times. Everything he has done has touched our lives. From our books to the elcor performing his plays. Even at face value it's worth millions of credits, but the Millennium Star gains the fame while no one gives a second glance to a father of literature. Such a shame to see history regulated to idle bids."

Gunn moved close behind her until his chest was against her back.

"I don't take you for the spotlight type," he whispered beside her ear, and was happy to see her lips crease upwards, "So…you plan on leaving with the book tonight?"

She licked her lips from the graze of his breath, feeling the tingle of her hairs standing up on the skin of her neck.

"Oh, finding what you want is only half the job," she turned around pushing herself into his space, daring him, "Only if you can catch it is the trick."

The silence that settled between them made the air heavy. The soft touches. The flirts. Everything was communicating instantly. To any onlooker, the sexual tension was easily apparent. Not because it was an act, but because it was the singular thing that wasn't a lie or a ruse.

"Would you join me for a dance?" he said.

The woman titled her head with an amused expression.

"I didn't peg you as the type," she expressed, genuinely surprised.

They walked onto the dance floor aided by the chords coming from the musicians. A small sigh escaped when he made sure she felt his hand slink around her slim waist. There was enough distance to be respectful, but his vixen wasn't having that when she pulled him close. A strained breath escaped her partner. Her body was practically on top of his, teetering between intimate and pornographic. To be so close and not able to do anything was pure torture. Despite the frustration, in all forms imaginable, she wore an innocent little grin, possibly a bit devious, as they moved to the strings of the orchestra.

Their feet stayed in sync, moving forward, back, then around. In truth, she was making him look better than he was. Didn't matter much since he was so acutely aware of the ravishing woman in his arms. The strings slowed; as did their movements. In the moment, she rested her head on his chest. Her soft hair. The unmistakable scent of roses making his senses flare. They lost themselves in one another with the original intent briefly forgotten.

"I didn't catch your name," Gunn asked.

Their hearts thumped in their chests as she looked up to his face.

"Oh you will," she whispered coquettishly, "Only…"

The tickling of each other's skin brushed against their faces.

"…if you…"

Their lips so close…

"…can find…"

So close.

"…me."

"With Forced Bravado: Ladies and gentlemen. The auction is about to begin," announced an eloquently dressed elcor at the podium.

Everyone turned at the elcor's proclamation, including Gunn. When he turned back around the beautiful woman was gone. Instead of disappointment, he could only smirk in amusement.

"Then I'll catch ya later," he voice spoke softly before leaving the dance floor.

While the crowd gathered, he took the opportunity to slip away towards the restrooms. Upon his entrance, he was greeted with the sight of a quite rambunctious young man tongue deep in an asari's mouth. Their eagerness pressed them into one of the fully enclosed toilet stalls. A large breath was needed before he moved into his own booth. Ignoring the breathy moans, he sat on the throne and withdrew his pistol. Security asked to remove the firearm and then scan the owner. Never did they think to scan the pistol itself. Of course it's a weapon, but the pistol may not be the dangerous part. The thermal clip popped from the slide and the top was carefully swiveled until the lower cylinder receded. Inside the casing revealed a slender flashbang. It slipped in his pocket and the pistol was back in place. It was then Gunn felt his breaths pick up and his own pulse skyrocket. A few quick splashes of cool water helped, but did little to stop neither the sweat nor trepidation. Then he looked at the reflection in the mirror.

"You're Solomon Gunn. You're not going to get hurt. They believe everything you say, you know why? Cause you're a badass."

And with that, he returned to the crowd. Unsurprising, the elcor was still speaking.

"Tentatively excited: It is an honor to introduce the tenth annual West Highland auction. Collections from so many of the galaxy's finest are here tonight."

While everyone's eyes were on the speaker, Gunn's were glancing elsewhere. Guards were stationed around the perimeter; the obvious ones for the average viewer anyway. It was easy to spot the ones in medium armor sporting Avenger rifles. They gave the impression of security, but nothing beyond that. The ones that were dressed as waiters and waitresses with concealed M-358 Talons were the deadly ones. It took a trained eye to spot them. All regular staff had pretty formfitting uniforms, especially any of the waitresses. The ones with the slightly loose fitting jackets were the ones packing heat. At close to point blank range, those portable shotgun pistols would splatter anyone into the walls. There was another factor to consider with this kind of security…who had hired them to begin with? Was it building security, outsourced to a company, or privately funded by one of the visitors? Always worth contemplating if the interests of the proprietor isn't that of the collective.

"Eagerly: It is my hope that tonight's events will be enjoyed as much as I have spent organizing them."

There was a noticeable lull in the audience at the end of the elcor's statement. Everyone was silently praying to whatever deities they believed in that the elcor would not be the auctioneer. It would be a long night if it was…and a lot more alcohol needed.

"With genuine enthusiasm: Let the auction…begin."

Mercifully, the elcor left the podium and a salarian bearing a very slick navy suit approached the microphone.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We'll start the bidding on one of our biggest lots of the night. You know what it is or you wouldn't be bidding on it. It's the Millennium Star, so let's start the bidding at one hundred million credits-"

"Two hundred," called a voice from the crowd.

The salarian was off to a quick start. Definitely had training by human auctioneers, but his fast paced speech kept him apart from any human. It was a miracle everyone's translators could keep up. Voices yelled quickly on the bidding block. The starting bid was low to begin with; the insurance on the diamond alone was a billion credits. Fortunately for the seller, the price soared quickly from its million credit bastion.

"One billion credits! That was easy enough. Do I have two?" the auctioneer called out.

That was when the low bidders were out of the game and moved to the platinum players in the bidding war. It was also when Gunn decided to play his own game. He waded his way through the crowds, scanning through the bidders, until he found a couple that would work for him. A purple skinned asari with faint markings kept her arms folded with a stern look in her eye. Her salarian continued to match bids. If it started to get to far without them, she'd nudge his back to get him to stay on top. She was letting him do the work for that diamond, but it was evident she intended to get it.

Gunn positioned himself behind the oblivious asari. Admittedly, as his conscious shamed him for what he was about to do, he swallowed his dignity before nearing her backside. She focused she didn't notice Gunn until…

PINCH

The reaction wasn't immediate. Her head tilted up and gyrated until her eyes pierced into the ass grabber. She didn't run to her salarian boyfriend or husband. It was actually when he saw the look on the salarian's face that he realized they may not be together beyond a business sense. The toad was in total shock. As for the asari, her brow slowly creased in rage. Biotics glowing in the whites of her eyes and the palms of her hands. Gunn immediately realized his mistake-

The biotically charged punch landed straight into his sternum. The force of the impact launched him back into the weapon display cases with a cascade of shattering the glass. That immediately set off the alarm. Gunn coughed from losing the air in his lungs and shook the glass out of his hair. Now the adrenaline was pumping furiously. The next thing he knew, the asari marched like a pissed krogan and without hesitation drew a highly modified Carnifex from a concealed pocket. This definitely wasn't some wife swapper.

She aimed it quick, but before the trigger was pulled guards grabbed her arms and tried to restrain her.

"Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am? I'll have you all killed after I deal with this pathetic little shit!"

"Miss Sederis, drop the-"

The poor guard suffered a hard head butt for his attempts to talk her down. More security started to converge to subdue the woman. The distraction he needed was a bit overboard than initially planned. The white spots in his vision cleared into the shiny chandelier just overhead. It was then he got an idea.

Gunn rose with what appeared to be a wild punch winding up from his body. It turned into a hard throw. The flashbang flew into the air with screams from those who thought it was a high explosive grenade. Others ducked from the incoming blast, but when the cylindrical charge reached the chandelier, no explosion harmed the core of eezo. The sound was deafeningly loud and echoed in the room. Following the initial disorientation, the surge of light from the grenade amplified through all the crystals. It created a large blinding light encompassing everyone in the room. All forced to immediately shield their eyes if they hadn't covered their ears.

The light lessened in intensity and more looked up from their hand-cupped faces. The silence ended as murmurs filled in the room. The guards had swarmed around the diamond on stage with weapons at the ready. It was still there. Not even a fingerprint on the case. What was gone was the man in the altercation. The only thing left was the closing of the entrance door. The crowd rushed outside just to see the tinted stretch skycar speed off to the skyway. Private security jumped into their own vehicles and gave chase. Everyone was so occupied watching the chase that no one noticed Gunn with his omni-tool beside the building. He remotely drove the car away, set a predetermined course for the vehicle, and then closed out the program. With the crowd continually staring in the opposite direction, he popped out his ear protection and casually walked down from the gallery. His jacket draped over his arm with only the sounds of his boots on the sidewalk. He breathed the fresh air out of his lungs to let get his body to slow down. He was surging with adrenaline, though he knew of the pain to come when it wore off. The morning would reminder him of a strong punch and using glass to break his fall. Still, he couldn't help the thrill of success when he removed the black Tanto he had slipped down his sleeve before the big bang. He checked the blade in its sheath and put it in his inner coat pocket. Despite wanting to relish the moment he had to hurry on his way. The docks weren't too far and his ship would be charged late storage in an hour.

Finally, he arrived at the docks and was eager to get off Bekenstein. Despite his outward appearance, the rundown nature of his ship made him more at home than the party. It's lettering had weathered and its armor showed the signs of scorches. Slight battle damage from the previous missions were noticeable. However, the _Razgriz_ displayed the same tough, presence as it did before. Its diamond shaped wings were aftermarket, but allowed an agility beyond a ship its size could perform. The nosed and cluster mounts housed its heavy armaments that kept its place as an outdated, but proper gunship. Of course anyone who scanned it would only register it as a simple transport vessel. Rarely did someone do a visual scan on a ship anymore. Every craft contained a unique identifier code. The _Razgriz_ had its original on backup, but sported a cloned version to stay under the radar. If ever necessary, it could be switched back electronically given the circumstances. Altering one is highly illegal in Council space, but it is not a hard request for someone like the Shadow Broker.

He climbed in with the hatch sealing behind him, of course, he did notice the door to his cabin had been left ajar. He was sure he locked it earlier. The pre-flight checks had been done beforehand, so the engines flared to life and lifted the old gunship towards sparkling sky above. As soon as the ship broke the atmosphere, the auto-pilot was set for a nice relaxing trip. At the very moment he stood out of his chair he felt cold metal on the back of his neck. It was small, circular, and could only be the barrel of a pistol.

"Don't move. I'm taking your ship."

The voice was low and synthesized distorting the real voice. It was an undetermined gender, but judging by the angle of the barrel pointed up on his head, the intruder was short. In an almost elegant spin, the gun was pushed off his head and the figure pushed against the wall. He grabbed the small hand holding the weapon and pressed it besides the assailant's head. It was then he feasted his eyes on a woman dressed in a tight bodysuit. Her chest rose and fell from her deep, long breathes; pressing into his own body. And her hood just covering her face.

"You caught me."

There was nothing covering that cute voice now.

"So…what are you going to do to me?"

The pistol moved to the side as he leaned close.

"I'm not a cop."

She licked her lips with that line of color tracing down to her chin.

"That doesn't answer the question."

The pistol and coat hit the floor and they pounced on each other's lips. The building desire finally unleashed since the party. Their tongues danced until their bodies begged for oxygen; forcing them to part with hot, breathy pants. Two weeks and the feeling was not forgotten. After such a stretch of time it was now a yearning when they resumed in another frantic kiss. She tugged and pulled off his shirt. A small gasp escaped him when soft hands raked up his chest. The all so familiar sensation beckoned his body for more. He pressed her against the wall and heard a muffled moan. It would have been so cute if it wasn't such a turn-on. He searched and undid the clasps of her suit. He peeled it away layer at a time until he lifted the infiltrator by her thighs and just cupped her bottom. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively with her hands unable to leave the sides of his face. Into the Captain's quarters they went where no other visitors would interrupt them. The only silent watcher was the figure planted on the desk. In the corner was an antiquated statue of black resin dingus dating to the early 20th century; the Maltese Falcon. Beside it, still in its satchel what the thief had stolen it moments ago, was the red spindled book. They would be the only witnesses to the couple entwined on the bed.

"Wait," she managed to speak.

His movements came to a halt. Both their chests raised and fell with furious anticipation. Her hands moved to his eyes and carefully removed his contacts. The baby blue gone so she could stare into those brown pools she loved.

"Hey, Brandon."

To hear his name from her and not the alias was sweetness to his ears. Even as aroused as he was, he took a moment to cup his lover's face and just stare at how beautiful she was.

"Hello, Kasumi," he said softly.

They kissed.

"Now," she said eagerly, "where were we?"

A devious grin formed on his face.

"Right…"

He pressed slowly.

"…about…"

Deeper.

"…here."

The gasp of pleasure echoed through the ship as two halves became one once again.

* * *

The _Razgriz_ drifted through the dark void guided only by the computer's autopilot. Its corridors were empty and the only sounds came from the low bass of the drive core and the faint breathing of its two residents. They were in a mangled array on the barely large enough bed; bodies pressed together, hands draped over another, and as naked as the day they were born. Sheets thrown to the floor and using each other's bodies for comfort. Brandon started to open his eyes and could only smile at the view next to him. Only two weeks, but it felt like years since he felt this good. The passion as fiery as the first night they spent together.

His attempt to move was thwarted when petite hands clung to his waist to pull him back.

"Mmmm. No. Want more," came from the tired, muffled voice beside him.

It was an easy choice to return to cradle the woman in his arms.

"I know, Kasumi. You've said that quite a number of times. Multiple times if I recall."

Brandon pushed back the strands of her that covered her face. Her eyes wearily opened as she stared back at her lover.

"That was so..."

"Hot?" Brandon finished.

"Mmhmm."

She didn't move. She just looked at him. Watching his eyes looking at her. She missed this.

"It was so exciting to see you pop your cherry."

Brandon arched a brow.

"Your first heist," she said with a giggle, "I was watching you."

"Yeah? How'd I do?"

"Sloppy. Totally amateur for a heist that big, but that just made you unpredictable."

"Well two weeks isn't the longest stretch to become an infiltrating master mind."

Kasumi let her fingers lightly trail up and down his torso. They found the contours and ridges of his muscles and traced along the valleys. She noticed the bruise from that punch was starting to form and leaned in to give it a kiss. He was a little more muscular than he was on the _Normandy_. Still athletic, but more definition in his tone. She wondered if he worked out extra hard for her little game. Not that she was complaining as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

"That car hack was a clever surprise. I always found those tricks a bit of a gimmick."

"I'm not without some imagination."

"I'll garner the flashbang in the thermal clip came from that imagination," she said before speaking in a mock worry, "But what about the security cameras? They might have captured your face before you made your escape."

"The security vids were wiped clean," he said plainly.

That warranted a curious look from her.

"What makes you so sure?"

He leaned in close as if he was sharing a secret.

"Cause I knew you'd be there," he countered with a sly smile.

She tried so hard, but it was useless from his form of flattery.

"There might have been a…bug in the system. That's what happens when you don't upgrade your software," she spoke with a little grin, "While Jack looks right at home plastered on a billboard, I don't think you could pull it off. I prefer keeping you my secret."

"Yeah?" he said running his hand up her back, slightly massaging her shoulders, "Your dirty little secret?"

She relaxed under his touch and let his fingers do magic to her muscles. To simply be touched after all this time was a blessing. It felt wonderful to let her mind turn off for a few moments.

"Honestly Kasumi, I was scared shitless," he admitted with a forced chuckle.

Brandon was a bit out of his element now. It was a field which he had no experience. This time he was on Kasumi's path; where ever and whatever that may be.

"Awww, you look so cute when you're clueless," as she patted his hand, "You'll get used to it and you'll do fine. Besides, the most boring jobs are the ones that go the smoothest."

"Uh-huh. Which percentage is yours?"

"I'd say ninety-ten."

"Ten percent of your plans don't survive the battle field, huh?"

"Not always a bad thing. Always makes some good stories," she said pulling him for another kiss. His groans didn't help her current condition, so she pressed his shoulders back onto the bed and straddled him.

"God I missed you," he gasped.

"Me too."

She leaned down and met his lips in a gentle, yet passionate session. She felt his arms reach around her back sending tingles up her spine. Brandon felt the subtle grinds of her hips, coaxing him for another round.

"Kasumi…" his voice was lower than he'd been. Not in the seductive tone, but vulnerable that Kasumi stopped her teasing at focused on him.

"Why'd you run off?" he asked.

There was no hesitance, but it could only be described as heartfelt when she nearly whispered the answer.

"To see if you'd follow."

He paused by her words…followed by an overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her close…which he ultimately did, sending Kasumi lightly squealing from his embrace.


	2. Ch2: Angels with Dirty Faces

"Come in, tower. Requesting permission to dock in the long term port. Transferring registry information now."

Brandon punched in the codes corresponding with his ship's forged identification numbers.

"Information received. Thank you, Mr. Smith," replied the cheery voice on the other line, "Unfortunately, our public ports are currently full. We can have you placed in queue and send confirmation when space is available."

"Tower, can you tell me approximately how long that wait will be?"

"Two hours," she said without missing a beat.

Brandon sighed in his cockpit before responding.

"That's affirm, tower. We'll be on standby."

"Thank you. We hope you enjoy your stay at-"

He cut the transmission to avoid listening to that overly happy attitude. The autopilot was switched on and Brandon strolled down the corridor of his ship. The closest room, the Captain's quarters, was empty. He smirked and continued towards the aft, past the modest bathroom, shower, and kitchen. Just before the engine room were four small cabins. They were originally for additional crew when the _Razgriz_ was designed as an Alliance gunship, but with no other shipmates they were rarely used. Over their days in space, Kasumi took it upon herself to set one of them up as her own little library. Her books were stacked neatly along the small shelf; all in alphabetical order. Her favorite painting hung on the wall and her head statue placed on a corner nightstand. An ornate rug of reds and gold covered the metal floor. Where and how she had obtained it, Brandon hadn't asked. Not as much space as the observation deck on the SR2, but she gave the room a pleasant, calm atmosphere. Kasumi herself was stretched on the bed, lying on her stomach, reading her book. The wall beside the mattress was covered with fluffy pillows like a makeshift couch. She seemed so engulfed in her Shakespeare that Brandon didn't think she'd notice him leaning against the doorway.

"So will you ever get a buyer lined up for that or will this be in your personal collection forever?"

"I love that you ask questions you already know the answer to," she said without ever looking up. She had noticed.

"How about telling me how you found my ship and smuggled your stuff?"

"Nope."

The thief was eager in her reading, but was incredibly careful turning the page. She let her ungloved hand feel the paper; running her thumb lightly alongside the edges. Her hood was still over her head from habit, yet she looked so at ease. Complete zen.

"Fine," said Brandon, strolling into her little haven, "The initial reports at Highland didn't mention a theft of the book. What's sitting in its place?"

"Oh, the cover is an exact replica I had commissioned," she said, "As for the contents, it's amazing what a little hand dyed tea can do to age blank paper."

Brandon plopped beside her head as she continued immersed in the story. He took a small peek over her shoulder to see the old browned ink.

"So which one are you up to?"

"Romeo and Juliet. You know it?"

"I know the gist. Two star-crossed lovers. Their families at the other's throat. A forbidden passion that conquers all."

"One of the earliest renditions of true love," she stated, this time moving her eyes from the book to look at Brandon. Very deliberately. It was easy for Brandon to understand what she was getting at.

"I know you are a romantic, Kasumi, but I hope ours doesn't have to end with unintended double suicide."

She chuckled and turned onto her back, still looking up at her lover.

"To think, if only Juliet had an omni-tool both would be alive and eloping happily ever after."

She was so cute; Brandon was compelled to lean for a quick peck on her forehead.

"If you are interested," his voice dipping low and smooth, "I can pick us up some Hamlet tickets next time we're on the Citadel?"

Kasumi cupped his cheek and brought him closer...

"Long as I wear my cloak suit to escape the elcor."

"Traitor," he chuckled, much to the amused giggles of his girlfriend.

"I have a few jobs lined up when we land. How much longer?" she asked as Brandon stood back up.

"The wait is two hours."

Four hours later, the _Razgriz_ broke through the atmosphere and landed in the heavily cluttered docking bay. Unlike the _Normandy_, there was no access to privileged bays. It was difficult for a massive frigate to gain docking space without special consideration, but most of the galaxy owned smaller private vessels that could encumber a massive port. Civilians and criminals alike used them as their livelihood or even their home. Either way, there would be a long wait regardless of size. The long strip of darkened metal was filled with ships of all makes. Some appeared cobbled together from scrap. Others brand new with the shine still on the hull. The _Razgriz_…somewhere in the middle as Brandon stretched in his seat and looked out the cockpit windows.

"Stocks, bonds, indentured servitude, and corporate laundering," he declared dryly.

Illium, the bustling epicenter of business, where men and women traded assets, liabilities, and receivables; sometimes living ones. It brought back personal memories of working as a lowly private detective after the _Normandy's_ destruction. Not fond memories, but reminders of the past life he had given up.

"Least the fish is good here," quipped the thief walking from the aft.

The bass from the rear lessened as Brandon powered down the drive core and deactivated the aerial systems. Only the electrical systems were left online since the docks had electrical plugs for incoming ships.

"Between Bekenstein and laying low, I'm eager for the change in the scenery. What's the job?"

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"Come on. I know you don't like sharing this stuff, but this is me. It's piece of mind to know where my girlfriend is."

Kasumi tilted her head inquisitively, forcing Brandon to clear his throat.

"In case you need…ummm…tactical support?"

Kasumi smirked and projected a vid message from her omni-tool. It showed a tan skinned woman with short hair tied in bun. Her outfit was a violet burgundy uniform, more in line with a secretary than casual dress.

_"Hello. My name is Ezla. This is a personal request and I have been informed you are the one to talk to. My father, Emile Conroy, was a scientist for S.T.A.R. Labs. It's a research and development company based here on Illium. He was a brilliant man, but had a conscious…something most don't have out here. One day he went to visit the laboratories on Noveria."_

_She held back something and looked down away from the screen for a moment._

_"He never came back," she choked, "I asked around, but the company states he never worked there. Like he didn't even exist. I want to believe he's still alive…but I know better. Their Illium office keeps track of the company's data logs, operation programs, even offshore transports. It is secure, but is the only lead I have. I need anything that can help. Please. I just want to find out why and what they did to my Dad. I can send a payment of 50,000 credits when the information is transferred. Contact if more is needed. Thank you."_

The recording ended. The former soldier hadn't heard the name Noveria since the Saren chasing days. Never stepped off ship, but remembered Garrus complaining about the cold and, occasionally, hearing Liara crying by herself for days after the mission was over. One thing that was certain, Noveria was the place for highly questionable practices corporations liked to perform.

"I thought you weren't a fan of e-crime?" he asked.

"Please. A two year old salarian could hack into a firm and collect a small payout. Every thief dips a hand into that field. Too easy, too boring for me. More of a challenge to steal something you can feel and touch. It's easier to fudge account numbers than, say, craft a replica tapestry."

"Then why no hidden treasures or priceless antiques?"

"Cause that's the next job. This is quick credits. More than enough for fuel, dock costs, maybe calamari later."

Kasumi opened the first set of hatches, but stopped before the outer hull doors.

"And maybe I can give that girl some closure," she stated while checking her Predator, "I'll scout location. If everything looks good then I'll hit'em tomorrow night."

"Will I get to participate in the job?"

"Sorry, Brandon. Give it a couple more weeks. Bekenstein officials are just starting investigations. You pop up then the case is hot over here and all over the front page."

"Right and you're the cloaked one. If I'm stuck, you can at least teach me your tricks in the meantime," Brandon mockingly sulked with crossed arms.

Kasumi opened the hull doors which sent a slight gust of fresh air, not filtered oxygen, into the ship.

"How about this: if you really need some air, I'll let you play lookout."

"Does that mean I get a disguise?"

She smiled and walked away as he yelled back humorously, "I could say I'm an asari commando in drag!"

* * *

The entire skyline glimmered in shades of purple and blue; illuminating the darkness that night brought. Illium was still bustling and joined the list of cities that never slept. Below the skyway and air cars, Brandon was setup on a flat rooftop beside the "borrowed" taxi. True to her word, Kasumi let him tag along on the little theft.

"Mic check. Am I coming in?" she asked.

"Loud and cheery."

Brandon stared through his binoculars to the building adjacent to him. It was the target Kasumi would be infiltrating. It was a simple and plain office building. Not even a sign. Petty compared to the elaborate executive offices in the high rises, but not every corporation could afford prime Illium real estate. Or perhaps it was intentional for keeping a low profile.

The last of the main security guards left the offices and approached the front entrance. This would be where they'd debrief and switch to the nightshift.

"How did Ezla contact you anyway? Not like you advertise on the holo terminals."

"Just a friend of a friend. Sometimes old associates send me jobs they can't pull off. I'm surprised someone actually went to Jareth for this job. That guy couldn't find the backside of his suit."

Her words seemed to bounce around his head for a moment.

"Just seems a bit menial compared to other work you do," he said with a hint of concern.

"The pay is worth the little trouble. Should be nice and simple."

Brandon nearly scoffed over the comm, "When does anything simple actually end that way?"

"You spent too much time with Shepard. I like to think of the glass half full."

The daytime security exited the building. All the nightshift consisted of was one armed guard at the main desk and the building wide security interface.

"The day guards are out. I'm clocking you now. You are in the clear," Brandon reported.

"Going silent."

All Brandon could do now was watch from afar and wait. It'd be less stressful if he could check her progress, but it defeated the purpose of her staying hidden. He peered through his binoculars and scanned the building if she had gotten in. The only clue was a reflection on the glass window on the furthest side of the office floor. The red light on the access pad turned to yellow. Then the door 'magically' opened and closed by itself before Kasumi reappeared.

"Okay, I'm in," Kasumi spoke.

The thief casually sat behind the desk, clearly making herself comfortable, and activated the computer. Watching her work was nothing short of impressive.

"Still amazes me how well you do this."

"Planning is eighty percent of the task. You know how much time I put into getting into Hock's place?"

"What's the other twenty?"

"Improv. You seem to have those numbers reversed if Bekenstein was any indication."

"Har har," he mocked, but was distracted when a flash of light swept over his position.

He shielded his head immediately before glancing back up. The source came from the underbelly of a large black limo which landed at the front of the office building.

"Well this is peculiar," he heard over the radio.

"What's up?" Brandon responded, not tearing his eyes from the limo.

"These files are heavily encrypted."

"Doesn't sound surprising for corporation."

"But this isn't corporate software," she said suddenly, "These are blackmarket safeguards."

Before Brandon could retort, he saw the door of the limo slide open. The old soldier stared a little harder when a krogan exited. This wasn't the normal backalley brawl kind. His pale blue head-plate was fully formed, but not as flared up, making him relatively young. Instead of armor, this one wore a navy suit that was custom tailored for how it wrapped around his hump. His sidearm was another clue; an M-11 Wraith with a polished chromed barrel, a blacked out body, smart choke, and an omni-blade attachment. It was enough to start being worried. What completed the feeling was three additional krogan, all similarly armed, who stepped out of the vehicle.

"Admire it later. Four krogan just showed up."

"Krogan?"

"Yeah, I don't know either. You trip the alarm?"

"No."

He watched the group enter the main lobby and the security guard merely gave them a halfhearted salute. They chuckled as they headed through the offices; directly towards Kasumi's position.

"The security guard just let them in and they're coming your way. How much time you gonna need?"

"This stuff…a solid five minutes."

"You don't even have one. Abort."

"Hold on. I need to wipe my files or the alarm will pick up the breach."

Brandon's palms were already sweating around the curves of the binoculars when the krogans neared.

"They're right outside the door!"

He couldn't see the krogan behind the building walls. All he could see was Kasumi activate her omni-tool and disappear in the window. Brandon's eyes were glued as the group lumbered their way in to that same office, apparently joking and laughing at the navy guy's story. The krogan sat behind the desk and produced a bottle for his entourage. Everything got quiet minus the soldier's heart thumping in his ears while he swept back and forth trying to find some indication Kasumi got out. The offices, the main lobby, the back door, anything. He'd been so tense he hadn't remembered to take a breath.

"Come on, baby. Say something to me," he said quietly.

"Boo!"

His skeleton nearly leapt out of his skin when he heard her behind him.

"If you keep getting worried like that, you'll never survive this business," lectured the thief.

After ensuring he wasn't in the middle of a heart attack, they got into the skycar and they took-off for the skyway. It wasn't before long that Brandon inquired about the unforeseen factors.

"What the hell was that all about?"

"I don't know," she admitted, "That info was much better protected than I thought and those krogan were too well dressed to be mercenaries. Apparently, they completed some business deal tonight and decided to celebrate. Something about a shipping lane interference."

"Doesn't sound like some low level corporation."

"Definitely not. I don't think our friend knows the trouble she was looking into."

Brandon narrowed his brow as he drove.

"I'm not so sure she didn't."

* * *

Illium mornings brought the usual routine for many of its inhabitants. Ezla left the relatively high-end hotel complex and mixed into the crowds. Nothing out of the ordinary in the sea of daily commuters. As she was checking her omni-tool, someone bumped into her from behind, but stayed there.

"Turn down the alley," she heard sternly in her ear. Also someone's hand gripped around her arm.

She did as she was told and the pair made their way from the crowded street. Out of sight, she was whipped her around and Brandon pressed her shoulders against the wall.

"You have some explaining to do, Ezla."

"Who are you? What are you talking abou-"

"You contacted an associate of mine. A thief. That small job of yours? Turns out it involves a gang of krogan."

"A…a gang?"

"Yes and you're telling me you knew nothing about it?"

"No. I…I didn't know-"

"Fine. Then tell me how you contacted us through an address that was apparently ghosted from a colleague? Our contact never sent anything from you. He never even heard of you. Just like your father didn't come up on any documents **outside** the company. Not even a birth certificate."

"Please, don't hurt me-"

"Who are you!?"

Something flashed across her eyes-

All the breath left Brandon's lungs after her unexpected elbow to his gut. It hurt, but he recovered quick enough to grab the Predator she aimed from a concealed holster. He sidestepped, twisting the gun, and turned it right into her neck with his forearm pinning her against the wall.

"Internal Affairs," she said between her clenched teeth, "I'm a cop."

* * *

It had been a good hour since her cover was blown. Now she was under the watchful eyes of Brandon and Kasumi. Despite this, she didn't appear the least bit worried. The location helped with that. It was crowded enough to imply good faith they wouldn't do anything harmful, let alone draw attention. There were plenty of escape paths to blend in and disappear for both parties involved.

"You two are taking me lying to you very well," she said looking back and forth between the pair.

"Trust me, you get used to it pretty quick," Brandon replied matter of factly, "Your friends haven't swooped in to arrest us, so I assume it wasn't us you were after."

"I'm surprised you didn't at least lock me up somewhere."

"Not our style. Besides, I was in the mood for Chinese," said Kasumi sucking up a noodle.

The three of them occupied a table in the veranda of the Chinese restaurant, or the Illium equivalent of one. Brandon fiddled with his own chopsticks digging into his Lo Mein.

"So come on," he said with a mouthful, "We've all been lying to each. Let's try truth. This isn't about some daughterly father disappearance and you weren't after us, so who or what are you after that involve heavily armed krogan?"

Ezla leaned forward with her hands on the table. This was starting at the beginning.

"It is true that I'm stationed on Noveria. I run internal affairs for the board of trustees. A corporation by the name of S.T.A.R. Labs set up shop not that long ago. We get new corps all the time. Nothing about their financial records or paperwork seemed off. It was squeaky clean…almost too clean, but that didn't matter to the Board. As long as they were getting their fees they could care less. The problems started when other company's shipments started getting ripped off. Experimental weapons, mods, even medical advances. Never directly from their labs. Always from transports to or from Noveria. Someone was getting inside information and the Board didn't want any worse publicity. The more I dug the more I realized S.T.A.R. Labs was just a dummy corporation. White collar crime is normally nice and clean, but when the person is one of the most notorious krogan crimelords around…it complicates things."

Kasumi snapped her fingers, "Thax Clan!"

"Exactly. The corp itself is just fancy equipment that produces nothing. They were using it as a foothold to eavesdrop on the other companies. They bribed employees, hacked the hardlines, intercepted mail, you name it. I've been building a case against them for months, but its just hot air unless I have strong evidence revealing its a Thax front and they're stealing company secrets. Since I don't have jurisdiction for krogan gangs, I decided to get outside assistance. I was hoping the office I sent you kept contact records or supply manifests of the hit ships."

Brandon tapped his chopstick against his plate as he processed this new wealth of intel.

"Fine, but why contact us? I'm sure there are others."

"Most information brokers on Illium are paid off or have good dealings with the clan. Most others for hire aren't exactly discreet. Or they just think they are."

"Seen the types," Kasumi shrugged taking another bite, "I have to say. I was impressed with your performance. Very rare when I can't read someone at first glance."

"You grow up poor and surrounded by rich kids, you get good at hiding yourself. Helps with going undercover."

"Oh, be honest. You like it," she teased as if they had been old pals.

She couldn't help but smirk from the thief's remark.

"Part of me likes being able to fool people. Especially those damn asari. Ageless and superior…until you nail them and they squeal like schoolgirls."

They were getting along way too well that Brandon cleared his throat to get the conversation back on track.

"So you thought to give us a job without mentioning the krogan part?"

"I thought their offices here might be less secure. Didn't think it'd be a problem. I heard rumors of how to find 'the best thief in the galaxy', so I borrowed your contact's old records and sent a request."

She looked directly at Brandon.

"Just wasn't expecting a partner."

Brandon shrugged and licked his lips; half from the sauce, but the other from the situation. He didn't like how they were played and nearly got caught. He glanced at Kasumi who didn't interject. She kept an eye on him as if she was letting him make the decision on this. That or evaluating his judgment.

"We don't make it a habit of working with agencies of any kind. We try to make sure our activities stay unnoticed."

"Listen. I'd get into a lot of trouble for associating you. I tell them about you…I get arrested and my case falls apart. I'm in this just as bad and have worked too hard for this to fail. The only way I can get the Board to boot them off planet is prove they are stealing schematics, weapons, anything from the other companies. I'm unlikely to run into a Spectre again, so you're my best bet. You get me what I need and I can call in the heavy hitters."

"Just answer me, why we should consider this? This is a lot more than a 50,000 credit job."

A mischievous smile gleamed on Ezla's face.

"Part of Thax's many operations includes mineral supply depots. Diamonds, gold, precious metals, you name it. If you get them involved with the bureau then I get their records. I doubt if a few of those missing items weren't recovered it'd raise any eyebrows. Especially if they were considered stolen to begin with. Not like the clan could file a report."

Kasumi didn't show it, but Brandon caught the grin behind her chopsticks and Lo Mein.

"Seems we're all in agreement, Miss-"

"It's Gianna. Gianna Parasini."

"Xie xie," their waitress said before leaving the bill at the table.

Kasumi glanced up at Brandon. He turned towards Parasini.

"Don't get cheap on us, Gina."

* * *

Brandon kept his omni-tool steady as he sorted through the mess of color coded encryptions. He wiped the sweat creasing his brow as he navigated the junk data for the proper combinations. The orange glow of the terminal was the only light that revealed his place in the darkness. Eyes glanced at the runtime: fifteen seconds until the lock reset. He had to go fast or it would go into lockdown. He returned to his omni-tool and implemented the set of codes that he was certain it was the right one-

The hatch's orange hue blasted red with the lock alarm. A frustrated puff of breath left his lungs now that he had to start all over again.

"Tricky, isn't it?" Kasumi said.

The lights came up in the bedroom as she neared him at his desk.

"Here," she handed him one of two steaming mugs.

"You know I don't drink tea or coffee. Unless it's Irish."

"Trust me," she insisted with a warm smile.

Brandon quirked the corner of his lip and grabbed the hot beverage. The aroma of herbs and spices indicated it was tea. After a light blow along its surface, Brandon sipped. His tongue sloshed around and Kasumi's efforts were rewarded with a pleasant hum.

"That…that actually is pretty good."

"The secret ingredient is a dash of the best honey you can find. This comes from an asari monastery. Supposed to be the best."

"And where did you acquire that?"

"That's my secret."

He took another sip and could feel his core warming up.

"Well, you converted me to another aspect of your life," he said before turning back to the safe, "This…not so much."

"You wanted me to start mentoring you. One day it'll be you doing the heists and me watching the guards."

"Bypassing door locks is a vacation compared to this stuff. Navigate the nodes, connect the right combination, done. Safe cracking has junk codes, decoy encryptions, and a reset time as quick as a salarian on caffeine."

"You'll get the hang of it. Aren't going to learn without practice."

Slim arms wrapped around his chest and coaxed him backwards; leaning into his lover to savor her warm embrace.

"Most importantly, you need to relax."

Her small hands caught his shoulders with a strong squeeze to make his arms shrug. His head fell back with closed eyes in sweet bliss. It made sense how those nimble fingers could sort through data so quickly. He didn't think it could get better until warm lips met his smile.

"Yes, dear," he replied playfully.

Reinvigorated, he flexed his hands and activated his omni-tool again. Shepard was lucky to get this kind of training. Unless the soldier was N7, Alliance soldiers weren't trained in hacking safes. If they did, the alcohol from the officer's lounge would disappear much more frequently.

"I know you let me make the call, but you're sure we can trust Parasini?"

"She covers hers tracks exceptionally well. Even I had a hard time digging up her files."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"You know me better than to trust anyone. Why do you think I was running an infiltration program through her omni-tool?"

He paused and gave her a bemused look.

"Well, I still wanted Chinese," she added.

With no comeback, he just returned to his practice, "Find anything useful?"

"She's telling the truth. No reports on us. And if she did there wouldn't be anymore. She has a substantial case. Dock times, warehouse locations, omni-tool contacts, extranet mail. A lot of leg work for being on her own."

A smirk crept on Brandon's face as Kasumi praised Parasini's work. It didn't take a genius understand her newfound respect of the officer's skills. Both she and Kasumi shared the same sort of past.

"So we are good with our client," he said while deciphering which code he should pick, "what do we know about Clan Thax?"

Kasumi sat on the desk's edge for a better view of her boyfriend's work. It took a significant amount of willpower to not interject on which code it was.

"It's run by Thax Vorak, or simply put, Mr. Thax. Personally, he's squeaky clean. All his business dealings are legit, no signs of illegal ties. Has a nice yacht at his Citadel penthouse. Credit inflows are bounced around enough to avoid problems. I honestly doubt if there is any evidence of the Noveria operation. It's pretty thorough and probably departmentalized like most of his organization."

"If we can't find dirt, then how do we connect his clan to the corporation? I doubt Thax has those kinds of files lying around his desk."

"We just need Thax do what we need."

Brandon chuckled as he got the first set of codes correct and moved into the second set with time to spare, "I don't think krogan respond well to instructions."

The thief tapped her lips; half thinking of the plan and the other half watching his progress.

"He will if it's for some contract work and hired muscle. Especially if a visit from Solomon Gunn is in order."

That made Brandon stop and turn to her eye to eye, "I thought it was too early for him to come back?"

"If Gunn's reputation is still floating around, Mr. Thax will surely have heard of it. Possibly enjoy a meeting of likeminded people."

"So we aren't thieves, we're colleagues."

"Exactly. Think you can handle it?"

"Can't be much harder than taking to Wrex. I'll just make a good entrance."

The safe rang out again, but the amateur didn't get anxious this time. He simply reset it and started over with no apprehension. The professional noted the major improvement.

* * *

A 2187 Blackout in metallic black landed at the private landing pad in the upper floors of a high-rise. Brandon Davis was the driver in the car, but it was Solomon Gunn who exited and approached the entrance.

"Excuse me. Just what do you think you're doing?"

Blocking the way was the same navy suited krogan from the failed theft at the office. At least this time, Gunn was not caught off guard by his appearance.

"Tell Mr. Thax that Solomon Gunn is here to see him."

The krogan looked at the small human and nearly laughed, "Firstly, this is a private landing pad. Second, you make appointment."

Instead of watching the human scurry away, Gunn stayed planted where he was.

"No. I'm meeting your boss now," he stated; undeterred.

The krogan snarled and leaned his large head extremely close to the uninvited guest.

"Okay, pretty boy. Listen good. You have three seconds to leave, or you'll have the rare opportunity to see what a bird sees falling off this tower."

The hard reptilian eyes met the hawk like stare of Gunn's own. The lack of fear just made the krogan growl.

"One-"

Gunn slammed his forehead into the soft spot of the krogan's face. Smart enough to avoid the solid headplate, but a proper headbutt to stun the much larger opponent. Compliments of Commander Shepard.

"Two," Gunn stated indifferently.

Radek shook his head, the realization dawning of what the Gunn had just done, and then reached for his Wraith. Gunn was nearly about to draw _Excalibur_, but a voice from the krogan's omni-tool interrupted the quarrel.

"Radek! Escort Mr. Solomon Gunn to my office."

The krogan halted his motions. Frustration was plastered on his face. After a seethed sigh, he straightened up and released the grip of his weapon.

"As you wish, Mr. Thax," he said over the comm.

With a smug smile, much to Radek's annoyance, Gunn was lead inside. They passed the asari and krogans meandering around in the hallways and straight to Thax's personal quarters. Radek knocked twice and the door slid open.

Mr. Thax, the krogan crimelord, stood with his arms crossed beside a large window that overlooked the skyline of Illium. He turned round and puffed a billow of smoke from the pipe between his lips.

"Take a seat. Of course, I hope you don't mind a security formality of mine."

"Not at all," Gunn said.

He lifted his arms to the side as Radek scanned him with his omni-tool. Not for weapons since it would be more out of place if Gunn wasn't armed. It was more about bugs. They'd know to check even his omni-tool for recording equipment. It was the reason Kasumi told him not to wear a radio in his ear.

"He's clean."

It was unsurprising that Thax's personal workspace was completely separate from the other corporations. Not just for security's sake, but he had much more credits to throw around. Everything about the office was bigger by human comparison. It had to be to accommodate the krogan's size. The large chair was plush black leather. Real leather. In the bottom was a small hole for his tail. The desk itself wasn't steel or asari ceramic but thick, heavy mahogany. To the side was a glass case featuring a few notable trophies. A krogan helmet half smashed into the skull. An asari Acolyte with dark purple blotches tainting its once white finish. Lastly, two crumbled halves of a modified turian Phaeston.

"I was watching that little exchange on my security screen. Quite a display, Mr. Gunn," said a quite amused Thax. He took his seat behind his desk with another puff of smoke, "So you are Mr. Solomon Gunn. There are rumors around that name being responsible for an incident in Bekenstein."

His skin was a pale yellow or tan, contrasting his large plates more akin to a forest green. Much like Radek, he sported a tailored suit, only of much finer material with elegant designs woven into the fabric. Very tasteful and respectable; something the galaxy rarely saw in the krogan. Brandon was not one for stereotypes and judged the individual rather than the whole race. He learned that from Shepard. There was something about Thax that reminded him of the Shadow Broker. A very large being, one claimed to be savage and dangerous, looking posh and sophisticated. Yet, there was no mistake of the dominance he exuded. Sitting behind that desk made it seem like he was holding a gun, only much more powerful.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Gunn said taking his seat.

"Quite a wise saying. I wished I had been there myself. Would have been a joy to have seen Sederis make a fool of herself and the Eclipse. Alas, I had business to attend to. Mores the pity."

Thax removed his pipe and pointed its end at Gunn.

"Whether you are him or not, you have a strong conviction to waltz into my building and demand a meeting. I respect your directness, but I prefer a little courtesy."

Gunn bowed his head in respect to him.

"I apologize, Mr. Thax. However, when I want something I get it. Doesn't matter if it's whiskey, women, or a job proposal."

That made the old krogan smirk.

"I'm fairly certain it's the latter that brought you me. Though whiskey and women are no shortage from my gatherings."

Both professionals chuckled.

"Mr. Thax, you know better than anyone, you don't get far asking for what you want in this world. Sometimes you have to grab it. At the very least," Gunn gestured to the younger krogan on the side of the room, "I asked your number two politely enough."

"Watch your tongue, human," Radek spat, "You'll won't have it when you leave here."

Mr. Thax stood up from his desk. Radek turned to his boss only to be head-butted hard. This occurred from Thax way too casually for it to have been the first time.

"I've told you to speak proper, Radek," Thax rumbled to the younger krogan, "And keep that anger under control. You represent Clan Thax. Not some barbaric band of mercenaries. Understood?"

Radek rubbed his head and regained his balance off the floor.

"Yes, sir. My apologies."

"Good. Now excuse yourself so I may talk business."

Radek did a small bow and left the room, though not without giving Gunn a hard glare as he walked by.

"Pardon him. He is in charge of security and overseer of my operations. A good earner, however, the young whelp can be too quarrelsome."

Thax retrieved his pipe and added more tobacco.

"Now about this job proposal. What makes you think I can be of assistance? I run shipping and trade operations."

Gunn sat back in the chair with a confidence to match Mr. Thax.

"This isn't Council space. You want to keep up appearances? That's fine. But I won't tolerate you wasting my time."

"The same goes for you," Thax stated with his guttural krogan nature seeping through, "Everything is clean here, so tell me something that makes me want to listen."

Gunn made himself comfortable and started laying out his problem.

"I had a deal set up with a couple of salarians. They could hack into a navcomputer and prepare false coordinates for a ship's route. I'd meet them with my crew and we'd clean house. Pot was split. Smart bunch. Most of the time it's classified hardware. Latest acquisition was Grade A Spectre class weaponry. Recently, my two little eggheads started a plan to reroute a shipment of pure eezo. I prefer hardware, easier to conceal, but it would be an easy flip. Could get an extra 50% the same day and that's the low end on the black market. The ship itself is a Athabasca class freighter. Supposedly, will have armed escorts. But with the ship out of radio contact and the engines disabled, they'll be cut off from everyone but my people."

Thax continued staring with his pipe in hand for a long moment.

"That's quite a compelling story, Mr. Gunn," he said before lighting his pipe with a wooden match, "Perhaps you can tell me why you would come to me when you have your own crew?"

"I believe in quality over quantity. This goes for my people and the jobs I take. The downside with the limited manpower means jobs on a larger scale are harder to do. When I need a sizable force I outsource. It's simple logistics."

"And you came to me," the krogan said as a statement and less of a question.

"Like I mentioned about quality, the same rules apply. Blue Suns haven't been the same after Vido kicked the bucket. The Eclipse leader was arrested for being nuts off her head and forget the Blood Pack."

Thax grinned, more in the praise than the logic.

"I'm honored to be so revered. However from my perspective, a ghost is speaking to me. Why would I want to do business with someone who doesn't exist?

Gunn smiled wickedly with a light chuckle.

"Oh I exist, Mr Thax. I just take great pains not to be heard of. Come on. We're both professionals here. If people think I'm a ghost, they can chase one. I like discreet and subtly. It's how you keep going. Let the Spectres chase the ones who flaunt their exploits in _Badass Weekly_."

"Fair enough," Thax responded with a puff of smoke from his pipe, "Discretion has many meanings as I'm sure you know. Wanting to keep a job under wraps involves discretion. Procuring your items of interest without a trace is discretion. Making sure witnesses cannot speak of what they saw is discretion. One way or another, we keep things quiet."

Gunn gestured to the ryncol on the personal bar. Thax waved him the go ahead and Gunn made two drinks. He placed one by Thax and held his own.

"Interested?" as Gunn raised his glass.

Thax took the glass and idled it in his hand, "I think I'll want 50 percent, Mr. Gunn."

"Twenty-five. Your manpower isn't worth half the score."

"But it's what you need and it is what I can provide. Forty."

"Well because I'm such a nice guy, I'll give you thirty-five plus a crate of some of the best hardware in my inventory," Gunn leaned his glass closer to his new associate, "Upfront."

Thax drummed his fingers on his desk before chiming his glass with Gunn's. Much to the krogan's surprise, Gunn downed it as fast as he had. It burned like hell, but Brandon had to keep Gunn a badass.

"Impressive, indeed. But let me say this…"

The crimelord leaned forward with a dark gleam in his eye. A look that betrayed everything in the room and revealed the hard fact this was still a krogan.

"…those who double cross me…they only do so once."

His words were deep with menacing tones behind them and, for a brief moment, Brandon felt a shiver run up his spine.

"I think we have an understanding," Gunn said.

With that, Thax took a whiff from his pipe. His smile exposed the sharp teeth on the sides of his mouth as smoke billowed between them.

* * *

The former Solomon Gunn landed the skycar back in the previous owner's parking spot. After reactivating the alarm, he walked towards the slender figure leaning against the wall.

"How'd it go?" Kasumi asked with her arms crossed over her chest.

"He bought it. All we'll need now is some hardware and Mr. Thax is going to have some major problems."

"It won't land our new friend behind bars, but will cripple his operations on Noveria."

"Should I be disappointed about that?"

"We're thieves, not Spectres righting wrongs and the like. If it makes you feel better, everything we steal for ourselves we'll give to an orphanage. Off world of course."

"I can settle for robbing the rich to give to the poor," said Brandon.

Kasumi beamed while activating her omni-tool, "Hey, Gina. Phase one is in effect. Can you get us the shipping schedule for Synthetic Insights?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You said Thax was stealing from other companies. Since they've been so careful, wouldn't it be terrible if his gang was caught red handed?"

"Is he stealing it?"

"…technically, we are."

* * *

They were early at the drop location. Thax agreed to the spot Brandon had selected. It was a desolate alley between two buildings of the lower levels. Despite being discreet, it was confined enough for an ambush by either side. Brandon, Kasumi, and Parasini were waiting by the armored truck. Compliments of Kasumi. While Brandon practically begged to tag along, it couldn't be known that a human was involved, so using her cloak was the best course of action. By now the truck was hot after being stolen from the corporation's warehouse and the local securities were bound to jump on its whereabouts. Emphasis on securities and not police. Any corporation wouldn't mind snagging it first. In this case, Synthetic Insights' personal militia wouldn't mind taking care of the perpetrators personally.

Brandon was still dressed as Gunn, but sported both his pistols in their proper leather holsters. The magnetic connectors always slowed his draws and while it was showy for playing Gunn, he preferred what he was comfortable with if the need for shooting arose.

"You okay?" Kasumi asked, "You seem a bit nervy."

"I know we're relying on Gina for backup, but can she handle herself?"

"She'll be fine. Besides, we needed a third. It'd be hard to sell some super secret gang with only two people."

Parasini wasn't in her casual outfit. She had donned Devlon Industries' light Explorer armor; complete with a tinted helmet for both for practicality and obscuring her identity. In her hands was a M-22 Eviscerator. Kasumi had acquired the gear for the officer while Brandon was playing Gunn. He didn't even bother asking how she had gotten them.

"Hey," the thief called over to her, "you doing alright?"

"Usually a tough job involves more paperwork, but I'm hanging in there."

Kasumi turned back around with a smug little grin. Brandon nodded in surrender and took a breath, "Just not a fan of the waiting. It's not the Omega-4 but still…"

"Well we had to get here first so Thax has the chance to scout us out. They'll trust us more when they know they have an advantage over us. It's all about making them feel secure."

"That's not exactly comforting, Kasumi."

Brandon checked both his pistols again and his barrier status. Since he couldn't show up in armor, he opted for taking his shield generator plus some additional protection.

"You know I used to take things as they come, but sometimes if all else fails, I just think…'what would Shepard do'?"

"That's a motto I could see backfiring," Kasumi quipped.

A stretch skycar came into view. Brandon straightened his posture, as did his two 'subordinates'. The trio waited as the truck slowly hovered perpendicular to their position. In Brandon's mind, he was debating if it was done purposely for cover or just to show off. When Radek left the car, followed his posse of three well armed krogan, he thought both.

"I take it Mr. Thax doesn't like being too involved in his dealings?" Gunn said with an air of annoyance.

"You made the deal, Mr. Gunn. We are here simply to carry out his wishes. You bring the stuff?"

Gunn snapped his fingers and his two associates retrieved two cases from the truck. They carried them across, just before the krogan, snapped the hatches back, and revealed the new armaments.

"Like I said. Best stuff upfront," as he gestured towards the case, "Short of Spectre class weaponry, you'll be pressed to find hardware like that."

Like any good buyer, Radek was checking every nook to ensure it was genuine. Soon he had trouble containing his excitement. It made the trio feel confident that he'd miss the Eclipse markings they covered up. Again, 'procured' by Kasumi. May not be a good businessman, but was sure a krogan.

"Haha. Oh this is nice. Very, very nice indeed. What's that expression you humans have? Easter came early?"

One of his underlings came over and grabbed the cases to return to the limo.

"Impressive. You do find the best toys," Radek exclaimed, "Twenty of his best men will accompany you. Give me the place and the time and they're all yours."

Gunn cocked a brow at that request.

"Thax didn't mention having to give you my information."

Radek crossed his arms, "That's the deal, Gunn. He wants insurance to know you aren't trying to swindle him."

Gunn activated his omni-tool and transferred the data Kasumi had forged.

"It's all there, Radek. I upheld my end of the bargin. I expect Thax to uphold his."

Radek checked his omni-tool and grinned, "Thax always keeps his promises, Mr. Gunn."

There was an odd moment where nothing happened. The krogan didn't move forward to take the gear. Brandon and his group didn't turn to the truck to get the bins. Neither of the sides left. None made a move.

"If we have no further business you can send your men to take the rest of the equipment," Gunn said.

Radek's grin widened to a full, toothy smile, "Yeah. You see, Mr. Gunn, there is a sorta hitch."

"It's not complicated. This was the deal I made with Thax."

"Mhmm. That old gizzard is a man of his word. I'm not."

And just like that, the trio knew the one in charge of the Noveria operations was probably acting outside of what Mr. Thax enabled him to do. It was good for Parasini's case, but was bad for their current predicament.

"I appreciate the info on that operation of yours. My men are quite adept at that kind of job. As for you, I'll make sure to let Thax know you tried to swindle us and I took care of you…personally," Radek gloated, "You need to understand something, human. I'm smarter than I look."

"Coulda fooled me," Brandon said, no longer playing Gunn, "This could be messy."

Radek chuckled, "Not terribly. So, how do you imagine the outcome of this?"

It was an uneasy silence as no one dared to move. Radek tapped his finger on the trigger waiting to merely aim and shoot. Another krogan lowly snarled; anxious to grab his Vindicator. Brandon's hands steadily hovered over the grips of his own pistols. Kasumi slid a nimble finger along her Locust's side. Parasini had a firm grip on her shotgun and only needed to raise it to waist level for a wide shot.

"Easy," Brandon said with a half smirk, "First one to die…loses."

Radek threw his shotty up, but wasn't faster than Brandon whipping out _Excalibur_ and planting two shots into the krogan's shields. It sent him off balance into the side of the limo while his men fired their rifles. Parasini sent a splintering burst towards the krogans while Kasumi used the rapid fire of her Locust for covering fire. A deafening burst sounded with no ricochets, but what did happen, what horrified Kasumi, was watching the two holes pop from Brandon's chest. He fell back hard with only the laughing of one of Radek's men carrying over the distant echoing of the muzzle blasts.

"I claim the kill on the kingpin! Now I'm the king!"

That lasted only until Brandon's arm raised _Excalibur_ and popped off the other's crown.

"Checkmate," he strained.

Kasumi ran to Brandon and pulled him back behind the armored truck. Before she could worry further, Brandon coughed and clutched his chest. Using both hands, he ripped the shirt open to reveal an Aegis vest, his additional protection, and two scorched plates in the sternum and abdomen.

"I'm…okay. Just dented the armor," he said, controlling his breathing to cease its panic rush, "Rounds cut right through my shields."

The trio stayed ducked behind their stolen truck with ricochets bouncing off the armored sides. The other gang took cover behind the stretch skycar. Rounds absorbed into body proving it was also armored; a continued reinforcement of how it was a tactical decision.

"You know this is not my thing, but," Gianna fired her shotgun, "a part of me is loving this."

"Now you're getting it," quipped Kasumi over her rapid firing Locust, "How long till your boys are here?"

"En route. ETA two minutes."

"The problem is we'll be dead in one," interjected Brandon.

Kasumi seemed to ignore that prediction and holstered her weapon and fiddled on her omni-tool.

"Kasumi, what are doing?"

"Without Thax, we need to get the info linked to the clan another way. Gonna be hard explain the truck's manifest in their limo. Just distract them and I'll plant this in their car."

The amateur thief's eyebrows arched up in disbelief at the proposal.

"I swear nothing is easy with you," Brandon puffed while pulling both guns, "We'll cover ya."

The professional tossed Brandon two of her flashbangs and cracked her knuckles, "Take these. On my signal throw them both and take the pre-planned escape routes. Gianna," as she pointed to her, "you remember yours?"

She nodded in the affirmative, "Yeah. There's a bin in the alley. I dump the helmet and armor. You'll sweep it up later. Then I join my friends for the big arrest."

"Perfect," Kasumi exclaimed with a playful pat on her shoulder, "Now wait for my mark."

"Hey listen, thank you both-"

"Send us a note later," interrupted Kasumi before cloaking out of sight, "Now."

Brandon and Gianna moved from cover and fired their weapons. The pistoleer sent a fast volley of shots to keep the gang from getting close. Anything in melee range and the krogan would have the advantage. Gianna was kept pumping rounds downrange. Thax's men stayed behind cover, most likely expecting them to run out of thermals before finishing the job. Out of nowhere, for the krogan anyway, an electrical surge emitted from the limo making the horn blare. The alarm system went haywire with its all its exterior and interior lights flashing.

"That's the signal," and Brandon threw both grenades over the truck. They went off covering the area in a canvas of white light.

After the smoked cleared from the explosions, the authorities' sirens came wailing down. Kasumi skipped away from the crime scene and hurried to the rally point to meet Brandon. It was just a grimy, abandoned kitchen through one of the doors of an adjacent alley. She surveyed the area yet couldn't find him.

"Brandon?" she whispered as she decloaked.

Nothing. For a moment she thought he might have gotten caught until she heard the distinct sound of Brandon's gun. She hurried around the corridor-

"Stay right there you scrawny bitch."

She raised her Predator instantly with both hands firm on the grip. Radek held Brandon in his clutches using him as a shield. While Brandon appeared unharmed, red crimson poured from the krogan's wounds with his veins bulging from blood rage. _Excalibur_ was on the floor with a spent thermal clip beside it.

"I said put that down or he'll be dead before he hits the floor."

Kasumi kept her gun trained and steady. A creased line across her mouth with not even a shake of the pistol. It was momentarily scary because Brandon didn't know if she was showing her poker face or a genuine reaction. What was for certain was Kasumi had no morsel of emotion when she fired her gun.

"AH! FUCK," Brandon cried as he collapsed from the krogan holding his leg.

The surprise from Radek was evident as he stared at his former hostage; now writhing in pain on the floor. Unfortunately, when he looked back to the thief he felt six slugs plug his chest. Radek slammed to the ground out cold. Kasumi skipped over his body and had an arm around Brandon.

"I took your advice, 'what would Shepard do?' Have you seen that woman in a hostage situation?"

She helped him to his feet through the grumbles and colorful expletives he mumbled.

"You'll be fine. Be thankful I didn't miss."

"Yeah, I'm jumping with joy," he said, all the while limping away. It wouldn't be long before Radek regenerated.

* * *

Thus marks the longest chapter I have ever written...so far. Read, review, but more importantly enjoy. Critique and feedback is always appreciated. Thanks.


	3. Ch3: Long Way Down

Brandon was staring at his boots. The tarnished metal floor surrounding him looked extremely familiar, but it wasn't his ship. Nor was it that of the _Normandy_. A quick breath left him nauseous. The air tasted old and stale. The sickening feeling in his gut grew when his vision took in the nightmare he'd never forget. Curved yellow glass spanned down a massive void. They were vast and layered like the honeycombs of a bee hive; except the endless lines of pods weren't filled with honey. It was déjà vu, but it couldn't be the Collector base. Shepard destroyed it. They stopped them. Even all logic fighting against where he was, the faint pounding on glass ripped him towards the nearest pod. Flashes of that poor colonist dissolving into pulp made the approach worse when he saw its occupant. His face must have went white cause he knew his heart stopped.

"Kasumi!"

She was in it. Still alive, desperately trying to push her way out. Brandon slammed his fists into the pod. Then threw his whole body into it to try and break the glass. When he reached for his guns he found nothing there. Why didn't he have his guns? That's when he heard the hissing. The subdued shouts and cries inside the pod intensified and Brandon frantically pushed on the door. A face of contorted pain meshed against the glass as Brandon's own grunts and yells filled the air. When he glanced up, Kasumi started sinking. Her legs collapsed as the gel ate through the bone. Fingers went limp when the muscles dripped off the tiny bones. Her face crashed on the glass, right next to his. Brandon's eyes widened to the scene of her hood vaporizing, followed by her dark hair falling from her scalp. Her jaw went slack then separated altogether. It wasn't the life in her eyes, but her eyes themselves that went black as they caved into her skull until she'd disintegrated into a bloody mess. Only then did the pod finally pop open in a flood of processed gel, dragging Brandon along to the floor. There was a tingling in his hands, but then it stopped. They rose before his eyes to see the skin completely gone being eaten to the bone…then the bone itself. His skin singed all over until muscles and bone exposed. He screamed covered in Kasumi's blood as the gel melted through his throat and burned his eyes into blackness…

…and after it came it was gone.

Brandon jolted upright. His breaths frantic and panicked. The moist feeling on his chest scared him until a free hand wiped across his skin. It was only sweat. A lot of it. And his hand was intact. Shaking, but intact. The familiar shapes of his room helped discern the reality from the dream. Breathing gradually slowed as he raked his hands through his hair…then he stiffened.

His attention sharply focused to the other side of the bed. The urgency dropped immediately when he saw Kasumi cocooned in the sheets safe and sound. She breathed easy and was uninterrupted from Brandon's sudden wake. Even so, it took so much self-control to not grab her and hug her. Instead, he just buried his face in his hands. He'd been pushing that battle out of his mind for weeks. Just occupied himself with other things: work, Kasumi, _Razgriz_, anything that wasn't Collectors. It had worked…until this night.

He squeezed his forehead resting his palms over his eyes, "Just a dream. Get a grip. It was just a dream."

It took effort to pull his leg over the bed. He kept his weight on his good leg when he pushed himself to his own feet. The curses he wished to call out were reduced to a near silent growl. There was still throbbing, but not the extent as it was a few days ago. If anything, it kept the rifle bruises on his chest from being more painful. Those were still purple and sore and made movement from prone to crouch to standing a chore.

Between old habits and the unsettling thoughts, he retrieved _Arondight_ from the nightstand and limped to the bathroom sink. The rushing water washed the sweat from his skin and was cool to the touch. He slurped from the pool gathered in his palm and sighed a relief.

It had been a while since he experienced a dream so vivid. Instantly, his blame went to the painkillers and antibiotics in his system. That could have given him the dream. Maybe it was the small fever after his condition worsened before the meds. Brandon searched for every reason that wasn't his own consciousness. Anything that took place in the last few days as opposed to the last few weeks.

A towel soaked up the last bits of sweat and water. His heart rate returned to normal. Everything was normal again. So normal that when he left the bathroom, pistol hanging in his hand, he looked down aft. No threats. Then he walked cautiously to the hatch, bare feet unfazed to the cold floor, and ensured it was still locked. Nothing unusual. Just paranoia. It was that unsettling anxiety that drove him to his locker. The door was pulled to the side revealing the relatively new goliath armor; the upgraded version of Kassa's colossus suits. It was grey with light charcoal highlights. Thick, weaved plates, but plenty mobile. The auxiliary shield emitters on the shoulders were repaired after the encounter with the former Shadow Broker. On that same note, his newly acquired Revenant was clean and cleared. It hadn't seen much use after being relinquished from the giant yahg. A shame for how modified it was. Double thermal clip capacity. Bored barrel for a bit better power penetration. Even a custom trigger to keep it light on the pull. The only thing missing was the Aegis vest he put aside to repair. The thought made him instinctively rub his bruises. On the other hand, new ones would be arriving some time or another. Or would they? Was it just a question of when? Or would they stop them before they arrived? Would it be a small band that would somehow stop the massive horde? Would the grand battle go unnoticed by the galaxy like the Collectors? Or would the galaxy know and accept full well of all the warnings Shepard had tried to make? That she knew and no one believed her.

The thought was heavy enough to bring his head to rest against the metal door. There was a reason he kept it unlocked. There was the unnerving feeling he would need them again. What haunted him, what has been haunting him since he woke up, was it wouldn't be mercs or gangs. The impending doom was in the shape of Reapers.

"Brandon?"

The soldier's gaze whipped towards the voice with eyes sharp and deadly. His grip on the pistol tightened and the only reason he hadn't drawn was because he realized it was Kasumi wrapped in the sheets.

"Oh…hey," he managed to say as he swallowed to keep his throat from getting dry, "Umm…what are you doing up?"

Kasumi was standing very still. Just staring at him.

"I could ask the same," she said finally.

Brandon took a long breath and put his pistol in the band of his pants.

"I…uh…thought I heard something. Wanted to make sure it was nothing."

All the response got was a small blink from his girlfriend. It didn't take a professional thief to notice a poor lie like that.

"You sure?" she asked, trying to prod him a little.

Brandon nodded and closed the locker.

"Yeah. You know I noticed how much your Locust smoked during that fight," as he opened the locker adjacent to his. Inside was Kasumi's hardware and he was fast to pluck out her submachine gun, "Looks like it hasn't had a thorough look through in some time. You get too used to leaving it for Jacob in the armory?"

Kasumi quirked a brow at his mention of Jacob. She was tired, but not enough to noticed how bad he was dodging.

"Jealousy is the last thing I'd expect from you."

He scoffed much harder than he should.

"Name one thing he has that I have to be jealous of," as he checked up the thermal ejector port, "Yeah. Little scorching. I'll make sure to give this a good clean."

"It's 3 A.M." Kasumi said, halting his movements.

"Oh. Right. Later then," he said as he put her weapon back.

Kasumi closed the gap between them and took _Arondight_ from his waist. It was always his left pistol since the first day she stole it from his room. It was also the gun he gave her before the Collector attack. They never mentioned it, but there seemed to be a mutual understanding that it would always be hers to use.

"Come to bed," she said softly, "You won't need this."

She cupped his cheek and rose on her toes to kiss him. Brandon sighed from her warmth and ran his hand slowly through her soft hair. To savor the feel he thought perished in front of him.

"Okay, honey. I will soon. I promise."

Kasumi smiled a weak smile before heading to their room. She had only one foot in the doorway before she looked back.

"Do you miss it?"

Brandon started to chuckle.

"Well, he was a bit boring of the wild bunch, but an alright guy for the occasional chit chat-"

"No, not Jacob. I meant the _Normandy_."

His answer came without a thought, "Of course I do."

Brandon squeezed the bridge of his nose as old memories flooded open.

"I mean it wasn't…when it wasn't slavers it was Collectors. When it wasn't them it was Reapers. A lot of what I've seen…what we've seen…I wish I could forget it. I really do. Yet…even at the end of the harder days I could. When I'd see Legion asking about bathrooms. Or Tali catching a glimpse at Garrus during meal time."

He stopped to look at his lover in the doorway.

"Or you waiting for me at the bar with a drink."

She smiled a real smile that time.

"For a few brief moments I could forget all the shit from the day and remember I'm alive. That I've got people watching my back as I was watching theirs. I've got my friends."

"Our friends," she added before entering their room.

Brandon stood there by himself before retreating to the cockpit. He plopped into his seat and stared out into the Illium skyline. The sky was dark, but the skyscrapers illuminated the clouds. It gave the city a pleasant glow that only made Brandon wonder how long it'd last.

With the release of sleep no longer an option, he brought up his omni-tool. It was comforting to see a message from Gina regarding the specific location of one of Thax's mineral acquisitions. At the very least, he could prep their sizable payment. Admittedly, his line of thought turned towards researching where he could purchase bulk orders of medigel and food rations…then thermal clips.

* * *

By comparison, not a long chapter, but the mood didn't fit with the previous one. Nightmares and visions are so integral to the ME story and I can't help but think what some of our heroes had to deal with after that mission. And knowing what was on the horizon while most people would think they were crazy. Even if everyone survives, I think everyone leaves with a scar one way or another.


	4. Ch4: Don't Bother None

**FIVE MONTHS BEFORE THE REAPERS**

_The yellow holo tape surrounding the crime scene was interrupted by a passing detective. Despite the darkness of the night cycle, the turian wore black sunglasses. He walked past the other C-Sec officers and kneeled beside the corpse in the back alley._

_"What's the prognosis, doc? Still dead?" joked the detective as he removed his shades; unfazed by its grotesque disfigurement._

_The coroner, a salarian, rolled his eyes and pointed to the victim's head._

_"Human male. Mid-20s. Headshot through the temple with severe burns on the entrance wound. This was done at point blank range."_

_The detective looked carefully over the wound, as if he was seeing something that wasn't noticeable to the naked eye._

_"And this…" the coroner shined his omni-light on the victim's unbuckled pants, "Large amounts of semen deposits. I think he was in the middle of someone when he croaked."_

_The turian detective's mandibles ticked and he stood back up._

_"Looks like the sex was…"_

_He raised and applied his dark tinted shades once more._

_"…mind blowing."_

_CSI: Citadel _flashed across the holo-screen accompanied by a loud 'yeah'.

Mercifully, the show ceased when a large body of a turian soared through the air and crashed into the screen in a flurry of sparks. Apart from a ruined grey and red uniform, the guard would be fine after he regained consciousness; minus some sore bruises and a wounded pride. Brandon cracked his neck before the next attacker charged with all his body weight. It was a fairly built batarian, so he responded by side stepping the unfocused tackle and placed a heel kick to the back of the knee. This dropped the batarian to the floor and allowed Brandon to plant his own knee into the guard's face. The sound of crushing cartilage was followed by blood spewing from the batarian's nose. Fortunately for him, it sent the mass of muscles to the floor cold.

The brawler's victory was short lived when the last guard, another turian, managed to land a punch across his face. The impact was so severe, he thought he felt his cheekbone crack. Numb burning spread over the side of his face and staggered the smaller human a few steps back. It was the equivalent to getting hit with a large hammer. He shook his face to get his bearings only to see the turian move in again on the offensive. The punch came, but Brandon leaned back; getting only the breeze of the missed attack. He treaded carefully until the turian threw a right roundhouse. Brandon deflected and stepped into the guard's now exposed right side. Turian plates were harder than bone with the amount of metal naturally ingrained into them. A bad punch could easily break all the small bones in a human's fist. That's why Brandon used his forearm and slammed it into the guard's face. The first hit stunned the poor turian, but the second knocked him to the ground to join the rest of his comrades.

With his assignment complete, Brandon walked towards the rear of the shipping warehouse. He was finally without a limp. It took the better half of the month, but was completely healed. The wonders of modern medicine and a faked medical account. At the far side was the manager's office. The door's holo-lock was red, so he hacked it. Nothing he couldn't do from his private detective days. He let himself into quite an unimpressive office. A desk with a ball-like trophy stating Biotiball Championship 2174. Some cabinets. A minifridge. Nothing special…except for the giant safe in the back corner. More expensive than anything in the room. Even more than some of the large crates of dry goods in the warehouse. One of the cabinets in the office had been pushed to the side which would have otherwise hidden the safe from view.

"You know most girls prefer candlelit dinners for a Friday night," he said to seemingly no one.

"Shh. Trying to concentrate," Kasumi said as she appeared in the small room; casually fiddling on her omni-tool connected to the safe. It was nearly as tall as she was. Her formulation of data continued until the safe locks unhinged and the door eased away. The sound of the large locks receding made Kasumi grin and she peeked her little eyes at the contents. A stockpile of credits, two highly modified AT-12 Raider shotguns, and a datapad. It was the datapad she was most interested in as she connected it to her omni-tool.

Brandon leaned in the doorway in awe as she worked. She was doing what she did best. What he didn't like was being useless, be it physically or professionally. Compared to her, he was the rookie and the last thing he wanted to do was hold her back. At the very least, prove he could be a good thief in some capacity. His best attribute up to this point was being a good distracter.

"Anything good?" he asked.

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"I seriously doubt you followed that mantra."

Kasumi's grin beamed into a smile.

"Some thieves prefer the old motto 'Don't look in the package'. Not my style."

The download was complete and she placed the pad back in the safe. The locks snapped shut, her traces were wiped from the holo-terminal, and she returned the cabinet in front of the safe.

"Looks like that's all taken care of," Brandon proclaimed.

"Not quite," calmly said the thief while she grabbed the heavy trophy and threw it towards Brandon. He ducked and the ball smashed into the face of a running batarian guard; effectively knocking him out. The stunned rookie was left staring at the unexpected foe.

"You…you said there were only three."

"To deceive an enemy, you start with your ally," as she patted his back.

"And…how does deceiving me help?"

She hopped over the knocked out guard and waited for her boyfriend. He sighed and locked the door behind him.

"Now what?"

Kasumi tapped her lips and counted off with her fingers, "Security was disabled, tracks were covered, and we have the item we need. We could have that candlelit dinner you talked about or would you prefer to go watch your favorite show?" she teased.

"Nah. I hate procedural cop shows. Doesn't matter where it is, they're all the damn same."

* * *

The candlelit dinner never made it to fruition. While Illium had more than countless upper class establishments, Kasumi and Brandon found themselves at a semi crowded bar with plates of comfort food.

"You're terrible when it comes to bad good ideas," as she munched on a crunchy vegetable of some kind.

Stuffed inside that vegetable was a blend of herbs, roasted sweets, and a thick, almost velvety sauce. Her companion held a more substantial meal in his hands. The bread was thin, but had many nooks and crannies that caught the juices coming from the meat. What meat, Brandon didn't know. The texture was close to salmon and tasted like a weird blend of spiral ham and fresh turkey. Most importantly, it was delicious. The bar food might have been less classy, but even asari comfort quality was high quality.

"I'm still on an adrenaline high after that little stint. Don't think I could do courteous waitresses and proper etiquette."

"But tomorrow?"

"We can do tomorrow."

"Sweet. Oh and that meal's on me," she declared with a credit chit.

Brandon looked at her sideways before plucking the chit from her hand.

"No. Looks like it's on someone named…Ashland. Who's that?"

"Trust me. It wasn't hard to steal from that klutz. If anything I'm preventing her from drinking herself more stupid tonight."

"You always manage to find a bright side, don't you?"

"Not always," she said, bringing up another credit chit, "You could be paying for dinner."

Stopping mid-chew, he looked at it, then her, then felt the empty spot where that chit should have been.

"You so were immersed in that sandwich. Gotta stay on your toes," as she tossed him back his chit.

So bemused by the whole moment, the most automatic thing he did was swallow the food in his mouth, "Didn't think I had to with you."

"And there is the first mistake. Expect the unexpected. See how comfortable you are? That's the prime time to catch you off guard."

She seemed to look past her boyfriend and finished last piece on her plate.

"Watch."

She tapped the side of her head, the universal sign that her radio was on, and hopped off the stool. The sway of her hips was deliberate and Brandon would be lying if his eyes didn't linger on her behind before returning serious. She planted herself right next to a lone turian that had to have been on round number five.

"Excuse me," a chipper Kasumi asked the bartender, "Could I have your fruitiest drink, please?"

The asari smiled fakely and started adding a flurry of different mixers with maybe one kind of alcohol. The end result was a glass of pink and blue swirls.

"That certainly looks tasty."

"Put it on my tab," added the turian.

"Why thank you."

She didn't look at the turian until she started drinking the multi-colored concoction. She took a good sip and it was easy to catch the turian watching her tongue lick her lips.

"I bet you buy drinks for all the girls."

"Just the…exotic ones," the turian said after finally finding the words.

Kasumi looked away for a moment, but glanced back to the drunk.

"Don't you have a way with words, mister?"

"Call me Silas."

Brandon watched as Kasumi made small talk. She let the turian lead the conversation, but never completely. She wasn't making them get along too easy. If she threw herself into his arms it would come off as suspicious. If she played hard to get then he'd move to the next one. She struck the right balance. She'd pull back a little, but when Silas was more interested she moved closer. Her body language became more and more relaxed. Silas became more and more intimate.

"How about I buy you another drink, beautiful?"

"Mmmm…no I really shouldn't."

"No you should."

Kasumi swirled her fingers along the rim of her glass, "You know, I'm not used to good looking strangers taking an interest in me."

"I don't believe that for a second."

"It's easy," as she reached a hand to the side of Silas' face, "None of them were turian."

Her gloved fingers traced the deep purple lines going across his mandible. His low growl was clearly audible.

"Your colony markings are so…intricate."

"I can say the same about you," he purred while his talon curved down her side to her waist, "All of you."

Her hand moved from his face, down soft hide of his neck, and brushed the…

"Wait!" when she felt the puncture marks on his shoulder, "You're bonded?"

"No. I'm inebriated," he said with a sloppy grin.

Kasumi immediately stood up from the bar.

"I'm sorry, Silas. I won't play the mistress to your wife."

"But that wife isn't here now," the turian called back, but was silenced over the crowd. Kasumi stormed out the bar, leaving Brandon slightly confused. He waited until the turian turned back to his drink, then paid the tab, and went to the street to meet his girlfriend.

"Glad I didn't have to wait too long," she teased while patting her pocket with the newly acquired credit chit, "Now that turian will know better than to try and cheat with cute human girls."

"Impressive. You need to teach me that trick."

"A group of people is a trick. One on one is skill. If you can tell when someone you know is in your pants then you'll be able to tell when everyone else is."

"I'm sorry. I lost you at 'in my pants'," he joked, "But seriously, it's not really fair. I can't flirt with well-dressed men. Not even shaggy dressed drunks."

"I won't deny being cute and petite helps, but the principles are the same. A good technique helps when stealing something on the body, but distraction is the key. They can't be thinking about where your hands are. They need to be in their own world whether it is comfortable and relaxed or frustrated and narrow focused. You need to get their attention away from themselves so they don't notice. Or if they're vain, let them become more immersed in their ego than their pockets."

They walked into a smaller bar compared to the last one. No food or grill. Not quite a dive, but clean and tidy with top shelf bottles. Just people and alcohol.

"A lot of options in a bar, Kasumi. How did you know which one to fleece?"

"That turian was a classic case in point. I knew he was married before I sat down. He'd been eyeing the asari waitresses all night. Tells me he has 'exotic tastes'. If he truly was single and looking for women, he'd be showing off his shoulders and neck more. Kind of hard to explain a bond mark when you are trying to get laid."

Kasumi gestured her hand to the crowd.

"The floor is yours. Remember, in a short time, you need to establish a good read with your target. What makes them tick? Are they insecure? Maybe they have something to prove? It all factors into the approach."

She sat at the bar, ordered a drink, and waited to watch the show. Brandon scanned the area for potential marks. Not the best setting to start with. It would have been easier if there were more humans around where some semblance of common activity existed. His eyes skipped over a turian and quarian laughing at the bar. There was an asari cupping her drink who shooed away an insistent turian trying to buy her another. Then there was a salarian. His demeanor seemed neutral. Not moody or reclusive. Just simply enjoying his drink and soon to be a second one after asking the bartender. When the salarian did gesture for another, a Kassa Fabrication Polaris IX omni-tool was on his arm. Brandon wasted no time to grab the empty seat beside his prospective pick.

"Whiskey on the rocks. Jack if ya got it," he asked when the bartender returned with the salarian's drink. A quick look at the order showed a tall glass of green sludge surrounded by an amber liquid, "I have to ask, what is that?"

The bar patron glanced at the human before picking up his glass.

"It's called a 'Homeward Bound'. Algae soaked in alcohol," he said before taking a gulp.

"Is it good?"

"I wouldn't be drinking it if it wasn't," he responded with a hint of snide.

"Oh no, what I meant was, is it good **here**? I know some prefer the algae to be soaking in alcohol for at least a week."

It was a gamble, but it wouldn't be a stretch if the salarians infused their algae with alcohol like humans did to fruit. It did get the salarian to stare inquisitively before taking another sip.

"It's better than most. Definitely has been soaked overnight. Most places will simply add liquor and blend on an order."

Brandon's whiskey arrived and he raised it in thanks, "Appreciate the tip. Want to know I'm in a good bar. Good bar means you get good people."

"Not always. I was at Eternity a few months ago. Everything was fine until some guy smashed a turian's nose in…after choking him. Did it in front of the whole bar."

Brandon cleared the embarrassment out of his throat and changed subject quickly.

"Jerks ruining it for the rest of us. You've been working here long?"

The salarian hesitated slightly before he put down his drink and turned to fully face Brandon.

"Listen. I know your species is as…open…as the asari are. And while I'm, uh, flattered to be considered, my sex drive is not like most. Nor or my…preferences."

Brandon raised an eyebrow as the sentence processed. Then it clicked. This left him tapping the side of his glass, a little unsure of what to do.

"Well…thanks for…letting me down easy."

"Again, my apologizes. Still, nice chatting with you."

With the botched attempt, he walked back and all he could see was Kasumi failing at hiding her giggling.

"This place blows. We need to find better marks," as a defeated Brandon downed the rest of the drink.

"Teaching time will have to wait, loverboy. We have some crime to be done."

"Great. What kind?"

"The kind that doesn't involve guns or gangs."

"Haven't done one of those yet."

* * *

Kasumi and Brandon were surrounded by skycars in an enclosed parking garage. They had made their way from the elevators and any security cameras. Brandon paced in slow steady steps. The last time he was in a situation like this he got ambushed. Kasumi, on the other hand, waited patiently.

"Don't be so nervous," her carefree voice chattered.

"I'm not nervous. I'm alert."

"Uh huh."

Her mocking made him take a small breath to expel some of his 'alertness', "So who or what are we waiting on?"

"One of my old colleagues needs a hand with travels off world. Was recently exposed so he's been laying low. Even the best in the biz can have hardships."

"I thought we agreed no jobs involving passengers or extraditing cargo?" he asked with folded arms.

"This is more of a favor than a real job. And technically, the cargo being extradited is himself."

"You two have a history?"

"Done a couple of jobs in the past. Real smart guy. He's got the whole mysterioso thing going. One of the few I don't mind dealing with in person."

This was enough for her colleague to stop in place, "I thought there's no honor among thieves?"

"A wise saying," a voice echoed in reply.

Instantly, Brandon's hand was discreetly on one of his guns. Kasumi never even flinched. Across the way, in the shadows, the unmistakable shape of a turian leaned against the wall. Only his sharp, jade eyes pierced the darkness.

"But there is a certain amount of respect when you are in the same business."

The figure took a small step forward, letting the light trickle across him. His face had no clan markings. In turian society, being considered a bareface was an insult. However, he exuded a suave confidence that made it irrelevant, especially if the quality of his clothes was anything to go by.

"Kasumi Goto. It's sure been a while, hasn't it?" said the raspy voiced figure.

"Rolan Quarn. Looking quite dapper yourself."

The name rang a bell. It had been all over the news. The turian was one of the most renowned con-artists of the galaxy; recently taking the identity of Delumcore Systems' CEO. He actually ran the business profitably for the two years and reportedly never stole from its assets. Prior to that, he had worked professions ranging from stunt driver to news anchor. Rolan pulled them off flawlessly without any credentials. Certainly a man of many parts.

"I see you have a new partner. Strong, silent type, but military? I figured you for the dashing adventurist."

"I might surprise you," Brandon sent back.

"I bet that you won't though," the turian countered.

Kasumi smirked at the testosterone in the air.

"You kids better play nice now."

Rolan's mandibles clicked in the equivalent of a turian smirk as his eyes continued to scan the new human like an evaluation.

"Got some spirit. No pride blinding your judgment," he spoke, a slight mockery laced in his tone, "And just enough style to make you dangerous."

Then he turned to Kasumi.

"Got potential. Though, I never figured you as the mentor sort."

The thief crossed her arms and tapped her fingers, "Come on tall, dark, and handsome. We know you're in a jam. Tell us what you need."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he voiced with a flutter of his mandibles, "I need off this planet. Illium's officials have been sparing no expense on my manhunt. Normally I'd let them fumble around aimlessly, but the price on my head will attract unwanted attention. Illium's rules on bounty hunting are less firm than say the Citadel."

"I take it we can't just stuff you under the deck floor and smuggle you out?" asked Brandon.

Rolan chuckled, "It's not as simple as it appears. And with all due respect, your ship doesn't send the message of respected businessman. Officials have been searching everything from cargo ships to private yachts. The best way to leave Nos Astra is not to leave as me. I need to leave as someone else."

Rolan continued as they waited to hear more.

"There is a shuttle leaving Illium tomorrow. Private investors looking to lend their credits to a small colony. Completely funded, all-inclusive, and the client list is solid. In my two years as CEO, I had many corporations wanting to partake in a few business deals. I took close looks at their books. Sometimes closer than they would have liked. Let's say, we'll be 'representing' the proud members of Corellian, Inc. They operate in multiple systems around the galaxy, so they are known for hiring humans."

"And how do we fit into the equation?" asked Brandon.

"A few forged cancellation e-mails to the right people. Easy work for you. Also, the officials are expecting a lone turian. Having an entourage would raise little suspicions. Upon arrival, I'll need you to ensure I've been 'properly' transferred on the Citadel bound shuttle."

"Sounds fun," came from the ecstatic thief. The decision had been made.

"Excellent. Though I will say this: Image is everything. This is for investors, so we need to look like we own a few Fortune 500s."

Kasumi tapped her lips for a moment and then produced Ashland's credit chit.

* * *

The loading gate for the Pterios class shuttle was already full. Designed and built by the asari, it was long, white, and sleek. There wasn't a pointed edge on the whole craft and, much like race themselves, it had curves all around its hull. Various suits of all races were in line waiting to get processed through security. From the distance, three figures strolled into the mess of entrepreneurs and their representatives. Posing as a member on the Board of Directors, Rolan walked in front of his colleagues dressed in a black and white suit with hints of gold stitching inlaid. The thief notched her eyebrows in approval at the turian's outfit. She took the identity of senior manager and looked the part with a dark charcoal power suit and black gloves. Everything was fit to measure from her lapelless top to her pants. People loved a woman boss and it made it easier in relations with asari. This similarly received a smart once over from the turian.

"Good to know some humans are tasteful."

"Old saying on Earth, a man's spirit would break before his suit. Wasn't aware turians catered to non-military grade attire."

"Oh, I'm **far** from the perfect turian."

"Funny. I know I guy who follows the same mantra," interjected Brandon. Unlike the others, he wore an off the shelf suit in deep navy. Reasonably nice, but nowhere near as tailored and polished as the other two, "Not thrilled I get stuck as the indentured servant."

"It was the easiest forge I could make on short notice. I hardly expected Miss Goto to have a plus one."

They approached the multiple lines for security at the gate. Rolan and Kasumi were none worried. Brandon flexed his hands and let out a short breath before putting his acting mask in place.

"Sir, may you please produce your identification card," asked the armed personnel.

Rolan smiled and obliged with his ID; complete with tissue sample from the former correspondent. While the turian's applied face paint was accurate, it all depended on the tissue sample going through.

The tense wait was interrupted with a screech from a security alarm. Brandon's gut clenched, but luckily, the source of the incident came from the line beside them. It featured a volus complaining about his suit setting off the alarm. The rookie forced himself to get his heart rate down. The guard's visors could read vital signs and the last thing he wanted to do was sell an excuse about being afraid of flying…through space. That lie would be embarrassing.

No alarms sounded after the scan. No flashing lights. Just a 'ping' sound and a green light.

"Thank you very much, Mister Vadair. We hope you enjoy the flight."

With the hard sale processed, the other two got through the checkpoint just as effortlessly.

"That was easy," a much less distressed Brandon tried to say confidently.

"I've had much more thrilling entrances," said Quarn, "I once posed as a pilot for a shuttle bigger than this. All I did was hire a flock of women to accompany me to the gate. The officials didn't even notice their mark walk right by them. Too busy staring at my 'assets'."

"Oh I remember that one, you sly dog," nudged Kasumi.

The three cons boarded the shuttle and took up a row of three seats. Kasumi was already reclining hers and getting comfy. Brandon sunk into his plush accommodations. The feeling of the exotic material further melted his initial anxiety.

"Real leather…this is a nice shuttle."

Rolan chuckled at the simple pleasure the amateur enjoyed. The artist set his head in the turian specific seat that wrapped around the pointed part of his fringe. Asari shuttles were smart to cater to that feature.

"They are trying to lure in any investor lined with credits. ExoGeni spares no expense."

Brandon's relaxation suddenly stopped at the mention of that name, "ExoGeni? Where exactly are we going?"

Rolan leaned back and closed his eyes for the long trip.

"Some little planet called Feros."

* * *

The shuttle arrived eight hours after departure. Kasumi and Rolan were well rested. Needless to say, Brandon was uneasy stepping off the ship. The last time he was here was the geth attack. Even though he stayed onboard the _Normandy_, the colonists became erratic and started scratching at the hull. He stayed on standby ready to use deadly force if they somehow made it into the ship or if the geth tried to send another attack. When it was all over, he heard stories from the ground team about some strange ancient creature that had influenced the colonists. He thought it was exaggerations, though after everything he has seen the past couple years, not much could surprise him anymore.

The port looked much improved compared to two years ago. No bullet holes or gunshots. No geth jumping from the walls. Any crumbling facades had been cleared away and repaired. Even the stairwells were brightly illuminated to make take away the dreary appearance. The wounds, on the outside anyway, seemed to have healed up.

"I hope your trip was comfortable," an asari greeted. Brandon would have bet his ship that everyone in the group was thinking the same thing: why was she green?

"My name is Shiala. Welcome to Zhu's Hope."

The crowd was lead from the port into what appeared to be a main square. It was very clean and tidy. What was most interesting was the flora growing in neat rows beside the walkways. It stood out from the slabs of concrete surrounding them. Like a proper tour guide, Shiala went through the points.

"This whole space was temporary housing during the colony's construction. The old bunkers were removed and now it serves as our main square for public activities as well as continuation of our imports and trading operations. I pride our brilliant technicians for reactivating the aqueduct system. Macha Doyle knows the waterways better than anyone alive. Despite the absence of soil, we've been growing our own herbs and food through hydroponics. We believe in being as self-sufficient as possible."

The bulbs in the center weren't food related, but they had bloomed beautiful shades of blue and white. At the center of the square was a small plaque. It wasn't brass, gold, or in the shape of any statue, but the attention to the script and etching was meticulous and elegant. The dedication was to someone named Fai Dan and commemorated his leadership and sacrifice during the geth attack. Must have been very well-respected.

"If you follow me, we will take a transport over the skyway to the main tower. There we will have refreshments and in-depth panels of the colony's future."

The ride to the headquarters was a bit crude for some passengers. Most weren't used to the simplicity of an M29-Grizzly. Brandon, meanwhile, felt at home sitting in the old tank. The skyway itself was simply a bridge connecting Zhu's Hope to the tower. In its heyday, it appeared to have used a trolley system for transporting passengers. Past the guard rails was nothing but a few skyscrapers and open space. It was a sight to behold, even as the sun did its best to cut through the dusty sky. However, Brandon's view was tainted by the a geth ship anchored to the tower like a metal parasite. When Shepard snapped the dreadnought's arms, its plummeting mass fell to the ground below. The impact vibrations were felt even up into the SSV. All Pressly's comfort for the crew was 'everything was under control'.

"This was formerly ExoGeni headquarters," said Shiala, tearing Brandon from his old thoughts, "While they still provided preliminary assistance to the colony, they have allowed us to reign as independents. The geth attack was costly and they took a…conservative approach in terms of finance restructure."

The transport halted in a large bay. The mention of geth and the darker lit space seemed to unnerve a number of the investors. While most were a bit hesitant to leave the tank, Brandon, Kasumi, and Rolan were first ones following Shiala. Eventually, the others followed their example.

"You and your people are quite bold," she said, noting the lack of trepidation in their postures.

"A good businessman must be," said Rolan, "Oh forgive me. Carrick Vadair. I'm on the board of directors for Corellian, Inc. This is Ellen Harvelle, our senior manager of operations, and her assistant Robert Singer."

Both humans nodded, but remained behind Rolan's direction. They didn't want to get themselves caught in a lie neither knew. Sometimes it was dangerous backing a play the other knew little or nothing about. Fortunately, things continued smoothly and the asari lead the group to a large room. The concrete looking walls were polished and cleaned in an attempt to convey the original look they once had. Stretching down the middle of the room was a long table of appetizers and beverages. Dextro and amino. Local grown and imported. Very multicultural. Terminals were placed around the room and other colonists from Zhu's Hope were dressed in their best.

"Please help yourselves. Our technicians and scientists are present for any questions you may have. We also have several VI's to represent our future plans. I please ask that you refrain from the areas off limits as they can be hazardous. A guide may accompany you if necessary. If there are any emergencies, our resident doctor Hollis Blake is on hand."

Put anything free, food especially, in front of people and they turn into a herd of cattle. No instance of nervousness after that announcement. The investors mingled amongst themselves and some of the colonists. Some crowded the terminals for an in-depth look at the schematics. The fake senior manager and her fake indentured assistant moved with the flock of suits. Despite keeping her demeanor serious, Kasumi couldn't help but pop one of the hors d'oeuvres in her mouth. Her ecstatic moan was followed by a little wiggle, "ExoGeni knows how to 'wow' its clients."

Brandon witnessed her excitement with a twinge of amusement. Rolan joined and indulged in some flavored chunk of meat, "You remember the plan, correct?"

It was obvious that question was for Brandon.

"Sneak in, create a transfer ticket for a Citadel bound shuttle, then get out," he said.

"Good boy. Make it look professional and be sure to keep a low profile," he added with a stern look to the rookie.

"I'm not that basic," Brandon scoffed, but then scratched the back of his head, "Where are we sneaking into?"

"Shiala's office. The headquarters has a network to the port. Might not be a big one, but since Shiala is a commando, she'd want to overview the systems, imports, and supplies at all times."

Rolan noticed the rookie's puzzled expression.

"The way she looked at us when we left the shuttle. She's held a command before. She's bound to have a computer connected to the network."

"That's just dandy," sarcasm laced in Brandon's tone, "I'm sure Shiala will give us the time to walk in."

"No, but asking for her time is an entirely different matter. Stay out of sight until I lead her away."

The trio eased away from the suits and walked towards the blocked off areas of the building. The new illuminations were the clue that this area was inhabited by some of the colonists. Kasumi and Brandon stayed back in an adjacent hallway and left Rolan alone to walk to a giant window. It oversaw the skybridge and looked out into the sky. The port of Zhu's Hope in the distance.

It wasn't long before small steps came from behind.

"Excuse me, Mr. Vadair. But this area is off limits."

Rolan turned confidently to Shiala and began to work his magic.

"Oh, my apologies. I just couldn't help but notice this view," as the turian gestured out the window. With his talons, he formed a little window in his hands and looked through the scene, "remarkable."

Shiala folded her arms, but engaged the turian further.

"You don't strike me as a numbers man, Mr. Vadair."

"I'm not," he put it bluntly. "Your display has attracted many curious minds, but what do you hope to see for Zhu's Hope?"

"There are plenty of panels that can show you much better than I can describe."

"I disagree. Asking someone about their home is much more telling than any diagram can show."

She looked at him curiously, but quirked a small smile.

"Well, if you so insist," as she joined him, away from the accountants and closer to the sky, "Zhu's Hope has been a research base for Prothean archaeology. It was one of the goals originally formed by ExoGeni. Prothean architecture covers nearly two-thirds of the planet. Our colony acts as a base of operations for further study of the ancient civilization."

"A noble goal, but tell me, what are you hoping to achieve with further funding?"

"The planet is completely habitable, but aside from the water supply, agriculture would be near impossible. Hydroponics would have to be implemented on a larger scale. The atmosphere would need to be cleaned from the dust and debris of the old cities. Many current terraforming pylons could be used with small modifications. A more lucrative endeavor comes from the city itself. Ancient technology is in high demand. Many of our current equipment is reverse engineered from past civilizations. We receive transports of students and young scientists hopeful to discover the next leap in tech. We try to offset costs with schools, though with more funding we could provide better education to the galaxy. As this is non-profit, companies could write it off their taxes. If a corporation was truly interested in setting up their own research facility, Zhu's Hope would happily oblige…within our guidelines of course."

"You intend to limit influence to the colony?"

"We want to keep this planet as pure as it was. We aren't looking for developers to open a luxury hotel."

"I'm sure ExoGeni would jump at that chance, though," Rolan said with distaste.

Shiala noticed his displeasure and leaned on the base of the window. She spoke less as a tour guide and more of an admittance of her true thoughts.

"Unfortunately, yes. Our galaxy has many planets that offer nothing more than gas giants. Here, any species could claim this as a home. We want to enliven this planet, not harvest what is left. This fabulous Prothean city was one of the gems of the whole planet."

"I think the gem is still present, Miss Shiala," Rolan's subharmonics dipped low as he fixed her with appraising eyes, "You must be proud as the overseer of this community."

She scoffed at the title.

"I wouldn't make it so official. I do what needs to be done. I manage the colonist's medical and supply needs. I ensure the safety and nourishment of its inhabitants. These are good people who have endured plenty of hardships."

"Very humble. I greatly admire someone who puts the needs of others over the needs of themselves."

He held out his arm.

"Would you be so kind as to show me more of your colony?"

Shiala smiled genuinely and gestured to a corridor. Not before taking his arm.

"My pleasure. So Mr. Vadair, what business are you in?" she asked as the two walked off.

"Officially its equity, but my specialty is hearts and minds."

The entire encounter left Brandon slack jawed and bemused, "Damn. That turian is smooth."

"He is good at many things," said Kasumi, "Like now, we have a great chance to explore her office uninterrupted."

The pair of thieves sneaked out from the hallway and down another corridor. After a few minutes of searching, they found Shiala's office.

"No locks on the door. They really must trust each other round here," Kasumi observed.

She scanned the room with her omni-tool to ensure there weren't any alarms or trips devices. As soon as it was clean, they were in the room. Brandon checked out the hallway they came from and closed the door.

"Get to it."

Kasumi cracked her knuckles and started going through the computer at the desk, "Rolan was right. Shiala keeps an overview of the whole network. Everything from the shipping vessels to the aqueduct output."

"What about the shuttles?"

"Yep. All the shuttles are hooked into the network while they're docked. Just need to get the right one and find a spare seat to declare no vacancy."

Brandon glanced around the room while Kasumi hacked the manifest. Pretty simple. A bed. Desk. Lock box probably containing firearms. A holopicture of Shiala and a bunch of other asari was on a dresser, complete in commando leathers. Rolan's perception was beginning to amaze even him. Taking a look closer, Brandon realized one of the ones in the center of the group was Benezia.

"Make this fast, Kasumi. I'm trusting this Shiala woman less and less."

"A little more and…done! Rolan is now officially Citadel bound," she exclaimed with a triumphant keystroke.

With that success, Brandon readied to bolt for their quick escape. However, Kasumi continued typing away on the computer.

"What are you doing now?"

"Just browsing."

All of a sudden a bunch of tabs littered the screen.

"Come on. I'm not sure how long Rolan can keep her distracted."

"Oh you'd be surprised what he is capable of. In the meantime, nothing wrong with a little intelligence gathering. Isn't 'Subject Species 37' the Thorian?"

That caught the old soldier's attention. He whipped around to see her innocent, yet somewhat smug expression.

"How do you know about the Thorian?"

"I read Shepard's debriefings from her old missions."

"Aren't those Alliance classified?"

"They were," she said plainly.

In retrospect, he should have known she'd already known. While wanting to take a peek, he refrained and stayed by the door to play lookout, "ExoGeni is the kind of company that would wipe this kind of stuff. Why would they keep it?"

"They didn't. These were marked under a personal file. A Lizabeth Baynham. These were copied before the company before they wiped the documents. People with a conscious hold on to their failures. Sometimes its insurance. Most times it's a reminder…huh…"

"What?"

"There's only one file with a heavy encryption. I don't think Lizabeth had clearance to access it."

She typed away quickly until the file opened, "I on the other hand…do. Tell me ExoGeni, what were you so eager to hide?"

Kasumi continued typing to sort through the files until her fingers froze. She leaned in a little closer to the screen.

"What did you find?"

"Nothing," she lied. "Just more Thorian stuff."

Before Brandon could move over to sneak a peek, he heard voices faintly from outside the door. He cracked it open to see no one, but someone was on their way, "Fun is over. I think colonists are coming here."

Kasumi used the distraction to quickly pull out a datadrive and copy the coded files.

"Just need a minute to wipe my tracks," she lied again.

The data was going fast as she cleaned off the computer. She also went a bit slower, so Brandon wouldn't know she was copying the data. Increasing loud echoing bounced from down the hall.

"We go to go now."

As quickly as the copy finished, she was out of the chair and the two thieves were out of the office. They quickly skirted back to towards the window and would have made the turn back into the company social, but two voices were chatting and getting closer.

"What are we gonna do?" he whispered.

With no warning, Kasumi thrust her lips to his making him go wide eyed. A human and salarian turned the corner to watch the business woman push a man off her face and deliver harsh slap across his cheek.

"Oww!"

It wouldn't have been as bad if she hadn't went for the side Brandon was previously punched.

"Mr. Singer! What do you think you are doing? Do you think I'm some floozy who'll just pounce on your lap? Think you're being romantic? I've helped you with your contract for years and this is how you see to repay me?"

It was puzzlement mixed with pain, but Brandon knew to play along.

"I…I was weak," he said lowly before dropping his head.

"Exactly. I'm half tempted to add another six months to your contract for that little display."

"Uh…is there a problem?" asked the salarian.

"Oh no. My esteemed colleague thought himself more than he was. You know how it is, employees gawking up to their boss. Maybe a little more than they should."

Kasumi heel turned and went back to the gathering. Brandon turned to the salarian.

"Got any ice?"

"I have a few cooling pads. Come along."

"Thanks," he said while outstretching his hand, "Robert Singer."

"Gorot II Heranon Mal Dinest Got Inoste Ledra. Or just Ledra," as he shook the human's hand.

"Okay…Ledra. Appreciate it."

"No trouble. I mean no offense, but I think she is a bit out of your league," Ledra said discreetly.

"You're telling me."

The rest of the reception was uneventful. The time was spent reviewing how calibrated salarian terraformers could clean the atmosphere and the shipping lanes established for food imports. Brandon ended up hanging with Ledra.

"It's just surprising to see a salarian setup operations on a colony as small as this."

"Small maybe, but I have a good rapport with the people here. They trust me and know I set my prices fairly. Make no mistake, I originally came here to make a quick profit, however, the geth attack changed my perception on this place."

"Bonded with the people here?"

"Bonded…that's the perfect way to describe it."

"I won't argue with family."

It had been a while since Rolan returned, so he excused himself from Ledra and made his way to his 'manager'. She was entertaining a group of investors.

"I heard ExoGeni announced a new system for detecting and controlling volcanic eruptions. That kind of technology could improve geothermal power across the galaxy. Now is the best time to invest in them. Lots of untapped potential. Most boards don't have the patience for that."

A lot of nods went around the small circle she gathered.

"ExoGeni is bound to need resources in shipping and materials. I have slaves on standby. Oh, I mean 'indentured servants,'" said a volus, complete with air quotes.

Everyone laughed excepted one. Kasumi smiled brightly, but her eyes showed hints of anger.

"Slaves are the batarian's market. Look at us. Our indentured servants aren't recruited for menial jobs. Some have skills and just fallen on hard times. Corellian pays out of company pocket to provide full training just like any of its employees. Stipends are offered no matter of workmanship or level of expertise. Some have been released from their contract early just because they had become more competent than some of their managers. Salaries are drawn up equivalent to their years served. They care to leave; we happily allow them on their way with full letters of recommendation. Everyone deserves a second chance."

When Brandon arrived her face hardened, "Speak of the devil, here is one of them now."

Brandon returned it back, "Miss Carter been trying to get in touch with you."

"Oh her. If you'll all please excuse me."

They left the group and moved to a less crowded area.

"Sorry. Had to sell it," she whispered apologetically.

He grumbled playfully, but still rubbed his face, "Nice pitch by the way. If I hadn't known better I would have thought you were a real businesswoman."

"Could you imagine me stuck in an office? Talking to suits is torture. I'd embezzle the company first."

The found a clear spot against the wall and close to the remains of the cold appetizers. Didn't stop Kasumi from nabbing one more bite, "Been talking to the colonists here are very nice, I have to say."

"They certainly earned this place. Have you seen our 'boss'?" whispered Brandon.

Kasumi glanced around before setting her sights on her answer, "I think he's enjoying himself."

Both saw their turian and the green asari. They stood extremely close, reluctant to leave. It was not before she gave him a small kiss on his mandible, much the same time he lightly nuzzled her forehead, did they leave each other.

"Isn't that going a bit too far?" asked the rookie.

"Rolan may pretend to be many things, but he'd never hurt the right people," said the professional.

The turian made a small bow, much as he did upon their introduction, and returned to his co-workers.

"I take it everything went smoothly…what happened to your face?"

"Umm…selling my cover ID," Brandon said sheepishly.

He looked at Kasumi and then back to Brandon.

"Makes sense. From what I've been learning, it appears ExoGeni and Zhu's Hope are not mutually exclusive."

"Funny, we learned the same thing," Kasumi said before Brandon gently nudged her in the side.

Oblivious, Rolan looked around at the other colonists and a few moments more at Shiala speaking to a corporate accountant.

"I'll also have to get in touch with my benefactors. This colony is in for a sizable donation."

"Will they know of it?"

"No. It's people with money they won't miss. Others, who are not myself, need it."

Neither of them could argue with that.

"So any plans when you make it on the Citadel?" Brandon asked.

"Might just relax and lay low. They're celebrating the human New Years there. Would love to catch the Times Square Ball," he said casually, though the turian's mandibles nearly twitched in a grin for some reason.

* * *

**One week later...**

"Is the line secure?" silently spoke voice.

"Yes," said a distorted voice on the other end of the audio link, "Though hacking attempts have become more and more frequent."

"Then I'll be fast. I have a present for your boss."

A drive was plugged into the terminal and sent all the data from ExoGeni. The only indication of surprise was the long pause on the line.

"Where did you get this?"

"It's irrelevant. This is solid proof that ties 'you know who' to 'you know what'. 'Tim' had a few moles in high places who initiated the mind-controlling Thorian experiment. Just like the thresher maw on Akuze used an Alliance platoon as lab rats. Explains why, immediately after blackout, ExoGeni tried to cut their losses and settle the colony. Their research findings were outsourced to an unnamed private company. Freelance staff was paid on a few private projects, but no specifics. Contract payments were sent from Cord-Hislop Aerospace and tissue samples were sent to New Dawn Pharmaceuticals. No signatures of anyone but an escort named Randall Ezno. There are no fabrications, even after you run it through your diagnostics."

The wait was longer than the last time; no doubt running it through the diagnostic program.

"It checks out. I'll transfer the credits-"

"I don't want them," the voice interrupted, "There is too much at stake for people to be idle. I know sh- Shadow Broker has been on the offensive these days. It's not much, but it's a better look into their finances and power structure. More importantly, it shows that 'Tim' has been putting emphasis on ancient races beyond the Protheans."

"Any links connecting the corp's activities to 'Tim' were dead ends. We only have six known fronts on record," replied the distorted agent.

"Well you can add a seventh to that list."

"As for your copy?"

There was no hesitation to snap the drive in two while still connected to the terminal.

"Hmmm. Understood. Be careful."

"Thanks, Mr. F. Keep guarding the guardian."

And the link was cut. Kasumi Goto left the terminal in the finance district and proceeded where she told Brandon to meet her. When she entered the bar, she found him receiving a Long Island Ice Tea and an Asari Sunrise.

"Spending some of the payroll?"

"Didn't make as much as you, but well enough to treat ourselves to a few goodies," as he handed her the drink, "Where were you anyway?"

"Making sure our friend hadn't been tracked off Illium," she lied.

"Well, I think we should clear outta here soon. It seems there's a thief about."

"Very funny."

"Yeah, he took this right off her," as he tapped her arm with a credit chit that wasn't his.

"Brandon," she scolded; whilest sneaking it into her pocket.

"There was an asari bragging about all the credits she made from her recent batch of indentured servants. I think that qualifies as a good pick."

"I'm happy you're picking it up, but you're supposed to do it in passing. You don't hang around after the act."

"Ah, she won't discover it until she orders the next round of drinks. Besides, this is Illium not Omega-"

"HEY!"

Brandon had only the chance to turn around before he felt the very angry asari's punch land on the already red side of his face. Luckily, the bar broke his fall.

"You stole my credit chit!"

"I got nothing on me…but if that means you have to frisk me, baby, you have my permi-"

His words were cutoff when a biotic push started his way. This time he ducked to the ground and a very drunk female turian received quite a rude interruption of her drink.

"Watch where you're throwing those you stupid bitch!"

She waved her arm, biotics flaring, and sent the asari careening into a table.

Kasumi tugged on his arm, "Time to go."

"Yeah."

The duo quickly bolted, still holding their drinks, before the angry asari crashed over the bar.


	5. Ch5: Red Sky in the Morning

**FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE REAPERS**

The batarian lounged in his corporate budget chair and silently cursed Rogers for being late again. However, being the only one in the bank, he could have said it aloud. He kept his foul mouth to himself in the day hours. Last thing he needed was some salarian complaining to management about some off comment. Now that night approached and the bank was closed, he was eager to get out of work. His wife had a juicy, fat steak waiting for him and it'd been a whole week since he embraced some eternity. For the sake of doing his job, he glanced at the holoscreen. Within it, four smaller screens showed the camera feed around the perimeter and vault entrance. Nothing unusual, like it always had been for the past four years. A yawn forced from his body and both sets of eyes blinked hard to push sleep away. It was so mundane. The only difference this day brought than all the others was the little glitch across the screen. It was the first time it ever scrambled like that, so he just tapped the screen to feel like he was doing something. Wouldn't be surprised if it was some upgrade problem again.

The sound of an access granted and the chirp afterward was a welcomed noise that got him up from his stupor. At first glance of the olive green uniform, he was ready to give Rogers an ear full, but soon realized it was an unfamiliar face approaching from the main lobby doors.

"Hey. Sam Spade," Brandon told the guard, "Filling in for Rogers tonight."

"What happened? Sick?"

"Yeah… 'sick'," he said with air quotes, "He's probably taking the day off, lounging his lazy ass on the couch. I work the weekend shift and this was supposed to be my day off."

He handed him the datapad with the new schedule. The batarian glanced at his own on the computer. It didn't have the new addition, but it was dated earlier than the datapad.

"You'd think they'd have the courtesy to let me know too," the batarian said before handing over the chair to 'Sam'.

"Tell me about it. Have a good one."

"A good cold one is more like it," quipped the guard as he was finally relieved of his job.

Brandon waved him off and took residence behind the desk. A glance at the holoscreen revealed the batarian not appearing on the camera feed leaving the building. A happy grin spread across the thief's face as the looping program was working perfectly. With phase one complete, he got on the office phone.

"Is this Rogers? This is the security desk at the bank. Dater had to leave early, so I'm filling in 'till you got here. Funny you say that, I wanted to let you know your key card is here. I don't know maybe you dropped it or something. No, I didn't tell management. They'd crucify you, we all know that. When will you be here? I gotta bail. I thought you'd be on time. Listen, I'm not berating you, I'm just trying to do ya a favor. Twenty minutes? I gotta leave in fifteen. I'll keep the front door lock set for general omni-tool access. You owe me, man."

With that done, he rushed from his chair towards the vault; paying no mind to the security cameras sweeping left and right. The vault was guarded by a barred door. It wasn't hooked up to any systems, so it wasn't hard for Brandon to hack his way through. Inside the vault was where the talent would be needed. It was a large room that spanned a city block. From floor to ceiling, it was filled with safety deposit boxes. The lights turned on in sequence as Brandon strolled leisurely down the sea of stainless doors. It was exciting to wonder what could be in each of these boxes. It was a high end bank, so any one of them could be treasure. From wills to jewels or weapons or heirlooms. For this job, it was a specific box.

"1885… 1875… 1865. Here we go."

All safety deposit boxes were coded to each individual with personalized passwords and heavy encryptions. That was why Brandon paused to take a small breath before connecting his omni-tool. Only one shot at this. All his practicing was put to the test as he kept calm and worked through the codes. His palms didn't get nearly as sweaty, though he was battling the adrenaline rush just as hard. The timer was faster than his practice safes and the real codes embedded in the junk texts were few and far between. Though, after a brisk two minutes, the lock went green and the little door clicked open. Brandon couldn't help a silent fist pump before extracting the brown box and lifting the lid. A one and a half meter long, climate controlled cylinder rested inside. It was of asari design by the telltale white steel and the blue temperature indicators. A time check on his omni-tool proved he was ahead of schedule, so he closed the now empty deposit box and relocked both it and the barred door to the vault.

He left the keycard on the desk with a small note for Rogers reminding him not to drop his things. In all honesty, the note should have said to not leave his keycard in his back pants pocket. Too easy to steal. Though a bit clumsy maneuvering himself out the front door, he casually walked just a short way from the bank. Kasumi was waiting impatiently for him in their rented skycar.

"Oh you make this so much more fun," she nearly purred.

Brandon tossed the item in the back seat and deactivated the bank camera loop. When that was all done, they took off for the skyway. Their speed was kept under the limit, but it wasn't long before they parked in a secluded area far away from any people. Neither knew what the contract was for and the curiosity was killing them. A faint hiss came as the top opened. Kasumi carefully removed the rolled up canvas and held one end as Brandon slowly pulled it back revealing two meters of jagged shapes and color. When it was stretched out entirely, four distinctive shapes were visible. As composed as Kasumi normally was, when it was unraveled, a small gasp escaped her, "Oh my God."

The different tones of blue formed four massive horses with manes of black. The background was an array of yellow and orange sky as the warhorses stood amongst a green landscape. It wasn't realistic, but blocky and abstract with just enough detail to see the forms and personalities.

"_The Tower of Blue Horses_," she said in a whisper, as if too afraid to say the name, "Franz Marc made this and it hasn't been seen since 1945… and we are holding it now with our own hands."

She looked back at Brandon who was just as bewildered by it. Apart from the captivating scene, history was between their fingers. The moment lasted for a few more minutes before they rolled it up and slid it back into its protective cylinder. Kasumi's heart was racing and it took a moment to breathe.

"I wonder if didn't they tell us what this was because of what it was or if they didn't even know."

"Think our buyer will be surprised?" Brandon asked excitedly.

"He will, but not the way you're thinking."

His confused silence spurred her to continue.

"This is too valuable to be hidden in someone's private stash. It belongs in a museum."

"Not even your personal collection? You have a Mona Lisa."

"That's just a really good copy. And technically… it wouldn't be my collection," she said while looking at her partner, "This was your first big heist solo. It's up to you."

Brandon thought about it for a moment. The image of the painting was striking and he was proud at the job he'd done. On the other hand, it was a valuable piece beyond monetary value. Still unsure of an answer, he looked at Kasumi's eyes and saw the emotion in them.

* * *

_The Tower of Blue Horses_ was proudly on display behind thick glass to protect it not just from the elements, but the hundreds of camera flashes from reporters. A human, the curator of the museum, stood on the verge of tears.

"Our research determined this brilliant painting had disappeared without a trace. This was centuries ago. Yesterday evening, this appeared in our research lab. No name. No note. And I assure you all, I am as gob smacked now as when I unfolded this beautiful piece in that moment. While I can't properly thank the individual or individuals whom had discovered and donated this lost art, I want to express my greatest, deepest thanks for what this means for our museum and art history."

The clapping was just as loud as the reporters trying to ask questions. Across the room, away from the crowd, Brandon propped his head up with his arm while leaning on a railing.

"I was holding a million credits. A million credits in my hands. Then I give it away for nothing."

"Don't start getting greedy now," Kasumi patted him on the back, "It's not always grandeur and riches. Spending too much too quickly lands you on the news or a kiosk flag."

"Sorry if I wanted to relish that feeling for a little longer."

"I know. I had to practically pry it from your hands."

Brandon slumped further and watched all the reporters gathered around the artwork. The anonymous donor would be masked in mystery and probably spawn fakes trying to claim responsibility. Kasumi moved from his back and softly rubbed part of his neck. It helped.

"Cheer up. There'll be plenty more credits waiting in this line of work. No more common soldier or poor detective scraping by."

"So humble, but did you think I missed that case of asari wine hidden in the back of the ship?"

"I occasionally enjoy the finer things in life," she smirked before tugging him along, "Come on. Let's look at the dinosaurs. It'll take your mind off it."

Begrudgingly, he followed her lead and his attitude eventually perked up. The duo spent the day at the museum, shrouded in a sea of tourists ranging from asari families to salarian students, even a few quarians on pilgrimage. This was a joint effort of the United Institute of Cultural Expansion to incorporate historical artifacts from different cultures on different planets. The dinosaurs were imported from Earth and shared space with many other extinct animals including the Rachni. Brandon quietly chuckled from the story Wrex mentioned about them on Noveria. Speaking of Krogan, they passed an entire section for Tuchankan creatures. The entire center of the room held the massive skeletal head of a Thresher Maw. On the sides were giant four legged beasts called Kakliosaurs. Looked liked the combination of a Rhino and a Triceratops. The little kids running around were in awe of the incredible creature, until they started using it to play hide and seek.

To get away from the noisier sections, they wandered into an area about asari history. Some of the temples and artifacts had been sent from Thessia. It was understandable why the asari had a thing for human Egyptian artifacts since both had similar aesthetics. Kasumi stopped at a pair of scrolls that made her wiggle her fingers, "Says this was found on a remote planet, but made mention of the asari. It was one of the first pieces of evidence that dated how long the asari had been present in the galaxy."

Despite Kasumi's enthusiasm, Brandon couldn't help but feel a little sad, "I bet the old Liara could read this text in a heartbeat."

"The old one?"

"Before the Shadow Broker and Benezia and everything. You wouldn't have recognized her. She was Protheans this and Protheans that. Like a bookworm with a rapt fascination about everything. Kind of a shame. I miss the old her."

Kasumi took her boyfriend's hand with a hard squeeze, "People change. Sometimes not by choice."

"Yeah. Still, could you imagine? She'd be finding things like this and sending them back by the truckload. No interacting with anyone, though she'd be perfectly happy."

"I guess it's better than the alternative. On that note, if I was dead, I'd hate people going through my stuff after the fact."

It got him to chuckle and he gave her a peck on the cheek. Any ill thoughts melted away.

"You'd never think of going that route? Instead of billionaire mansions, you'd visit new worlds and dig sites? You know so much history you're practically a historian."

"You give me too much credit, Brandon-san. I know much more than the common thief, but not cataloging and the like. I'll leave that to the professionals."

"So you just know your history?"

"I know my treasure," she said with a smirk, "And you? You can see yourself digging through dirt for that golden key to the city?"

His smile grew broad as he wrapped his arms around her, "Nah. I'd be the dashing, gun fighting, adventurer. Protecting the lovely woman from unexpected peril."

"Your noggin must really be filled with delusions of grandeur. Can't settle with occasionally saving the world?"

"Too much stress. Why'd ya think I let Shepard take that job?"

The couple held each other close as they continued through the museum. It was towards the end when Kasumi dragged her boyfriend into the gift shop that puzzled him, "What could you possibly want here? We could probably get the real versions of these things."

"You can't get these though," his girlfriend held up a purple sweatshirt showing a skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex biting into a Kakliosaur. Underneath it in white letters it read Game of Bones, "Take off your jacket."

The initial reaction was a mellow groan, but then Kasumi moved closer, "Take. Off. Your. Coat."

The playfulness in it was gone and turned very serious. So much so, he was already stripping off his frock coat.

"What's wrong?"

"That drell that just came in. Over my right shoulder."

Brandon peeked to see a blue-green drell casually looking through stuffed animals.

"What about him?"

"He's been following us for the past four exhibits."

"It's a museum. There are tons of people here going from exhibit to exhibit."

"True, but I had my suspicious since I never saw him enter the museum. He's a pro."

"Then why is he letting us know?" he asked as he pulled the sweatshirt over his head.

"Perhaps that is the question you should ask him."

She straightened out the wrinkles and pulled the hood over his head.

"Half the museum are wearing these. Should make things harder for him. Find a shady spot away from the crowds. I'll cover your back," she whispered, though that playfulness returned as she adjusted his hood, "Plus you look cute in this."

His pestered look met her adorable giggle.

They split up. Kasumi cloaked out of sight. Brandon tossed his coat over his arm, paid for the shirt, and left the gift shop. He trusted the drell was following him, so he tried to stay casual. His body language stayed loose, but his eyes stayed alert. Being solo made his cuts through the tourists easier. Hopefully, this meant the stalker would have to get closer to maintain line of sight. A large group of tourists came down the hallway and Brandon took the moment to sneak between them down an adjacent hallway. This gave way to a men's bathroom with a sign stating Out of Order. Brandon unlocked it very quickly and ensured it was left open for his guest. Apart from the peeling paint, he decided to take the wall closest to the sinks; plenty of hard surfaces if things became hostile. The drell calmly entered the bathroom and took the opposite wall with the urinals.

"You're not here to kill me or else you wouldn't have been so careless, so tell me why you're here."

It was a bold move, especially if the drell was trained to the extent of Thane, but it was reassurance that things wouldn't escalate from their current predicament. Even with a stealthy assassin, being on the same page eased everyone's nerves to prevent 'accidental' squirmishes.

"I am here on behalf of a prominent figure in the hanar community. He has a job proposition and requests your expertise."

"It's a big universe. You just so happen to stumble across me?"

"Forgive my bluntness, but no. He wishes to deal to Kasumi Goto. She is notoriously hard to find and it has been under the impression you are one of her contacts."

"And who says that?" the human asked with folded arms.

"All you need to know is we have people everywhere," said the drell. He produced a data stick from his coat and left it on the top of the porcelain, "He felt an electronic invitation too impersonal. This includes the date, time, and place for the meeting. He does not expect Ms. Goto to arrive, but her representative will be acceptable. Time is a factor so be there as scheduled or consider the offer void. There are always others… for far less."

Brandon tapped his fingers on his arms, "Now are you gonna wash your hands?"

"They're clean enough," the messenger said before leaving.

"Hey! What makes you think she'll say yes?"

The drell stopped in the doorway with his back to him.

"Maybe she won't. If it was a dire request, more emphasis could be permitted. Such as," his black eyes met the human's in a slow turn, "letting the museum aware of the methods of its recent acquisition."

Brandon's poker face failed with a narrowed brow.

"He simply wants the best. If not, he'll look elsewhere. Have a pleasant day."

The associate walked into the crowd and, like a ghost, vanished when a group wiped in front of him.

"Charming, isn't he?" an uncloaking Kasumi said, fiddling with the data stick in her hand.

"Just wonderful," Brandon said, "What do you think?"

She said nothing. Just looked at him with a twitch of her eyebrows.

* * *

"Kasumi, you need to reset the vectors!"

"No one likes a side seat driver," she said calmly.

The _Razgriz_ had a noticeable shake as it pushed into the planet's atmosphere. Brandon was a bit uneasy despite Kasumi's usual perky attitude. There was good reason: he was teaching her how to fly. And his grip on the pilot's chair grew more and more firm.

"Yeah and this is your first planetary entrance. It's not like driving a skycar."

"It just means it'll be more interesting."

"How do you define interesting? 'Oh god, we're all going to die!'" he replied very deadpan.

She let out an exasperated sigh and adjusted the pitch and throttle controls. This ceased all the vibrations during its dive.

"Happy, Mr. Bossy?"

"Very, and just 'cause I'm so nice, you can land it too," he prodded her playfully.

The _Razgriz_ broke through the thick atmosphere and descended towards the capital city.

"Requesting permission for landing, tower. Copy?"

_"Permission has been granted. Proceed to the designated lot. This one welcomes you to Kahje."_

Kahje, the hanar homeworld, was what Earth might have been if not for the Global Warming Act of 2057. Ninety percent of the planet's surface was water. Only small islands of land dotted its surface with the rest a vast ocean known as the Encompassing. In the distance, a white sphere sat. It was a domed city that was climate controlled and fruitfully supporting life for many drell whom had fled their dying homeworld. There were more like it throughout the planet, but this had the most foot traffic due to its large port.

The gunship lowered towards the platform, but pitched unevenly from side to side as it descended. The port side landing gear struck first before the nose and starboard met the ground.

"A bit bumpy, but not bad," Brandon sighed before the duo stepped out of the gunship.

The first thing that touched their senses was the breeze. It wasn't artificial. The strong tones from the salt water enriched the humid air. Looking around the docking bay showed no land in sight. The only thing protruding from the sea was the white spheres ahead. If the Citadel was the gem of space, then Kahje was the gem of the sea. Not to mention it was the only sea based city. The sound of the waves splashing against the platform columns accompanied their walk to the customs checkpoint. Over the speaker, a pleasant female voice spoke.

_"Hello and welcome to Kahje. As a reminder, this facility is a weapons free city. Only specialized personnel are allowed to carry weapons of any kind. This includes, but is not limited to; pistols, rifles, blades, omni-weapons, and so forth. If they are on your person, you will be fined and they will be confiscated until departure. Overt offenders will be subject to further scrutiny. To avoid any altercations, leave these items on your ship or in designated lockers. Speak with our customs service advisers if accommodations need to be made. Otherwise, please make your way through our grid for a mandatory scan. Thank you. Enjoy your stay on Kahje."_

Brandon took his steps through the grid. Multiple intersecting lines of yellow curved across his form. No alarms went off. Only a glowing green light to guarantee his smooth entrance. Kasumi followed with no problems.

The first few steps from the port hall into the main lobby were nothing short of amazing. Compared to Zhu's Hope, a lot of the re-purposed Prothean tech was near mint condition. Everything was clean and tidy. It wasn't too much of a wonder since the Protheans were regarded as gods by the hanar. The amount of respect towards their home was impeccable. Visiting another planet slammed the notion of how much of a minority one could be. It reminded Brandon of his time on the Flotilla. Kahje had more hanar in one room than most ever see in their shortsighted view on the Citadel. The same went for the number of drell. It's what always bugged him about those who never left that space station. They thought they were the most prominent until actually placed in an environment such as this themselves…

"Can I interest you and your friend for a visit through our botanical gardens?" asked a friendly asari.

… except the asari. There were always asari. Unsurprising since it was the Illium-Kahje shipping lane. It catered to supplies, services, and all things requested; be it business or pleasure.

"We're fine, thank you," Kasumi replied before turning to her partner, "This is quite a place. I don't do that much work here, but it's one of the best spots for tourists, romantic getaways, and 'unintentional' accidents," she said complete with air quotes.

"Uh huh. Odd since they don't allow weapons."

"Publically they don't allow weapons, but there is always some loophole or backdoor to get them in. The best weapon is the one up here," she said pointing to her head.

"Not to stereotype drell, but I imagine they wouldn't need more than their hands to kill me. And I'm walking into some hanar's office, unarmed, to hear about a job request."

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. I wouldn't put you into a situation I wouldn't be willing to do myself," she said before cloaking away.

"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel much better," he said quietly.

It was a short walk to the scheduled destination. The same drell from Illium was waiting patiently. He said nothing when the human approached. After a brief moment of silence, the messenger left from his spot and Brandon followed him off the public floor. A simple elevator ride down took them just past sea level. It seemed normal at first; just a few busy offices. One vibe from the environment was exclusivity of the people. Very similar to the embassies of the Citadel. Upon reaching the buyer's office, the drell stepped back.

"You aren't joining?" asked Brandon.

"Only specific members are allowed to listen regarding business. These past few months have been meticulously secretive."

The drell activated the door and gestured for him to enter. Brandon stepped cautiously into the dimly lit room. Shadows weren't something the hanar favorite for themselves, but the drell assassins they trained preferred it. The door slid shut and nearly jolted him off his feet. The only place to go was to the far end where, seated behind a desk, the supposed contact was. The silhouette of a tentacle motioned for him to proceed closer. Brandon discreetly sent a breath up his nose and out his mouth to calm his nerves, then carefully obliged. His steps were deliberately slow, but casual enough. The office was sparse since true Enkindler believers had a minimalist approach in lifestyle. Everything money was spent on was items that would be used extensively. A smooth fiberglass desk that would resist any rusting. A holographic interface to communicate with the galactic community. All tailored for a hanar's appendages. Behind the desk was a window peering into the deep blue sea. In glass cases were original texts from the Protheans. Whoever this hanar was, he had a far greater fascination with his gods than most.

Soon, Brandon was face to 'face' with the hanar. Its posture glowed; briefly illuminating two hardly visible drell on each side. That made the human keep his hands clearly visible on his sides.

"This one welcomes you to my domicile," two of the hanar's tentacles held a small baby varren while a third stroked its head affectionately, "You are the one greeted by this one's assistant."

"I am," he said with assertion. Anything to convince at least himself that he wasn't nervous.

"This one has heard Clan Thax suffered an operational grievance. Very unfortunate."

"I wouldn't know, sir."

It paused. With no facial features, Brandon didn't know if the hanar was angry to be lied to or impressed to know he wasn't vocal of his operations.

"In the search for the illusive thief, this one has been informed you are her contact."

"This is true."

"Associates have informed this one of a visitor coming to Kahje. There is to be a meeting involving the curator of the most sacred places of the Enkindlers. If this outsider can gain access, than it is very important that it learns any secrets regarding our teachers. Certain legalities prevents this one's legitimate acquisitions of any artifacts, so none can know it was a hanar and none can know it was from this station. However, obtaining this information may be deemed by any means necessary."

"We're thieves, not assassins. Can this information be deadly? Information is one thing. If that data can cause a core meltdown, then there may not be an operation."

"Nothing dangerous to anyone unless in the wrong hands, figuratively. Knowledge is the ever encompassing gift of the Enkindlers. This one merely wishes to know more of what was asked of this one's gods. How you obtain it is at your discretion."

The hanar opened a drawer and reached in. Instinctively, Brandon wanted his hand over his firearm, but there were none. Of course, the drell would have had him pinned to the ground at this range. Its tentacle came up wrapped around a small meat patty of sorts. It's pet caught sight of it quickly and wagged its tail. It was placed on the desk and the baby varren happily ate his snack.

"This one reminds you that varren may appear docile…"

Unlike the previous times, his squid-like body glowed slowly and increased in intensity as he continued.

"… however, in time their temperaments can become hostile. Furthermore if **mistreated**. Does this one speak truthfully?"

Never in his lifetime did Brandon think a hanar could threaten him in such a pleasant, yet still intimidating way.

"Of course, sir."

The hanar's tentacle moved over something on its desk. It was a hovering piece of sleek, black metal. Nothing special, but it appeared to make the baby varren lightly growl.

"Part of this one's ongoing quest is to discover its purpose in the universe. This one feels the hanar people will be uplifted to greatness like the asari," Even without any eyes the hanar was clearly admiring the strange relic, "Does this human wish to touch that which has given it guidance?"

It outstretched the object wrapped in its tentacle. Something about the whole situation made Brandon worried. The atmosphere, the job, it was becoming very eerie. He wished he could wipe the sweat from his brow. Alternatively, take plunging into the water outside to cool off.

"Uh, no thank you. Before we discuss rates, whom, if I may ask, will we be working for?"

It pulled its tentacle back, still cradling the strange piece.

"This one is known as Zymandis."

* * *

"Kind of a weird request, honestly. Then again, there was this time I was hired to steal this silver knife because the salarian thought vampires existed… Brandon-san, you okay? You haven't even touched dinner."

Davis had been staring at his plate of fish since it arrived. It had taken all his willpower not to run out of that office when he was dismissed, so he had been a bit distant. Not even good food shook that ill feeling.

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry. I just… ugh… I don't know. I did not get a good feeling from that guy. Who'd have thought a hanar could be that… creepy."

"You want to call it off?" she asked, genuinely concerned, "If you don't have a good feeling about it…"

"No, it was just… just uncomfortable. Unarmed. Drell assassins. Even Thax didn't make me that frightened. I think I prefer the scenic side of this place more so than the criminal side."

"The criminal underworld has its own culture, rules, and hierarchies. Some prefer a kind word and gun instead of just a kind word. It's a place where those who perform casino heists are the rock stars, con artists are the snobs, car thieves are the blue collar guys, and safe crackers are the artists."

"So what does that make you?"

"A jack of all trades, minus the showing off."

"Oh you show off. There's just never anyone around to notice," he said as he tried to relax.

"Excuse me," asked the yellow toned drell, "is there anything I can get for you?"

Kasumi shook her head. Brandon on the other hand…

"Whiskey on the rocks. Double."

Even Kasumi raised a shadowed brow at that.

"A new job on a new planet. Feel like we should start off right."

"Whatever you say," she said skeptically, "So no exact names or anything?"

"Just an approximate time span. Supposed to be this week. One of his associates will notify us."

"I guess until that time we can enjoy the new port," as she raised her glass of wine.

The chimed their glasses and Brandon smiled, though it was a bit forced. The job seemed simple, but there was something that irked him the wrong way about it. Regardless, he knew better than to pass on a job that Kasumi would have jumped at. At least he assumed she would have if she'd been there. Suffice to say, it was a welcomed relief when his drink came.

* * *

Special thanks to Maxaro for beta-reading this chapter. The reason for the wait is finals season (school finals) and originally this was half of the chapter getting prepared. Due to the difference of moods and vibe, I decided to split it into two chapters. That one will come much faster since it's already laid out and partly complete. Hope all enjoy the new installment. Relax, read, and enjoy! Comments and reviews (good or bad) are always appreciated.


	6. Ch6: Smoke on the Water

Brandon pushed the little rod down the barrel in his hand. When it poked out the end, the soft patch was discolored only faintly. It was clean with enough frictionless lubricant to stay smooth. It was weird not seeing it almost black from a mission or two. Probably put more rounds through this one pistol than most of his navy friends had in their whole career. He looked down through the small circular window. So many things had been framed up on the other end. Sometimes people. Sometimes geth. Sometimes monsters.

With a steady hand, he slid the exterior slide through the frame rails until a heavy click from the two hefty locking lugs on either side of the frame. The inscription _Excalibur_ shined from the polish he'd given it. The barrel was placed inside the thermal ejector system. The entire internal mechanism entered from the rear of the slide. The front barrel bushing secured the whole piece to the frame and body; ensuring it fully assembled. Brandon pulled back the internal slide, the tension from the springs good and strong, to lock open the thermal ejector. No scorch marks. Only some wear where the frame rails constantly rubbed. A little tug and the thermal port snapped forward.

Failing at hiding his grin, he outstretched his weapon and looked down the sights. Straight and accurate. This was something he'd done countless times, but was still every bit exciting each time it was put back together.

"Bang," he smiled.

A thin line of warmth creased across the back of his neck, nearly making him jump. The culprit walked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

"You shouldn't sneak up on a guy handling his gun," Brandon said; quickly placing _Excalibur_ on a pile of towels_._

"Oh I've done that plenty of times," Kasumi quipped mischievously, "Sometimes while they're shooting them."

He arched a brow; knowing quite well the innuendo she was going for. The thief waltzed over to his little work bench and watched him wipe the excess lubricant off her finished Locust. She took a long gulp and inadvertently cleaned her face from some of the dark grime. Instead of her usual ensemble, she wore one of Brandon's grease stained jumpsuits. Too big for her, but she folded up the sleeves and pants. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a bun to keep it from getting too messy. It was not something she was used to, but it came with the price of having a home and overhead. During their four days docked on Kahje, they flipped for what needed maintenance. Brandon got weapons. Kasumi got engine room. It wasn't glamorous work, but a few smears of oil were easy compared to some of her endeavors traveling in cargo bays. For one thing, she didn't have to stay hidden. Secondly, she didn't have to worry when a man's eyes continually watched her, even when said eyes were trying to be discreet.

Her little mind decided to explore this further, so she unzipped the front of her jumpsuit and let it bunch up at her waist. The sweat on her neck and chest glistened from the work lamp; making it incredibly hard not to notice at her torso clothed in nothing but a white tank top.

"You're getting so turned on right now, aren't you?" she said with a hint of amusement.

He put the Locust down and tugged at her waist.

"Yeah," he put it simply, "I think you look just as pretty covered in grease."

She smirked and leaned in for a kiss. It started as a small peck, but became much longer and deeper…followed by more of them. His grasp lowered to her thighs and seated her on his lap. She let out a little yelp that was just adorable before she reached behind his neck and tousled his sweaty hair.

"Mmm. Slow down, Casanova. I'm jumping in the shower," she said, heavily implying an invitation.

Instead of jumping to it, Brandon watched her walk to the bathroom. Knowing full well he was staring, she pushed the rest of the jumpsuit off and let her hair fall over her face. The door was left open only a crack, but not before her eyes said 'now'. Soon the water started rushing; as did Brandon to join her. He let himself into the small room to see a pile of her remaining clothes and a pale body under the water. She was lathering herself up without so much as a glance his way. Even when he started stripping his shirt and pants she didn't look. She was toying with him. A dangerous game to play. He walked under the cascading water and the heat was pleasant on his skin. It gave him the chance to admire her backside. Smooth, silky skin. Tight, toned bottom. Even the scar from her gunshot wound in the shoulder. Lucky onlookers might get a peek at her form in her cloak suit, but only Brandon saw her in such a way no one else did.

Kasumi maintained her innocent act. Unbeknownst to Brandon, she was anticipating his arrival with butterflies bumping around her stomach. Her efforts of being nonchalant finally shattered when a warm body pressed behind her. Ten small touches of fire slid along her thighs. Hot air graced her neck. She smiled at first, but then her lips parted a long, sensuous breath. His hands slicked up her sud covered navel and cupped her breasts. She threw her head back, exposing her skin for the hot kisses down her neck. The shower was nowhere near as hot as the heat building in her core…nor the pulsing feeling pressed against her. The squeeze on her tight shoulders loosened her more than the stream of pellets ever could. She bit her lower lip and leaned forward to brace herself against the wall. He was taking his time like she had. Her plan backfired…in the best way possible.

Slowly, he pressed himself into her and they both moaned in blissful unison. They stayed that way, relishing the feel of the other, but the urge to move overcame them. Kasumi pushed on the wall, letting her rear slap against his growing arousal. It was a steady, deep pace that quickened when Brandon started thrusting. Their skin smacked together from the water and their own wetness. Her breaths raced from her heightened state and soon she was dripping and close to climax. Brandon reached around and clutched her breast as his own release came in a flood of warmth. It pushed Kasumi over the edge; pressing her bottom down on his hard member. She grew weak at the knees, but Brandon held her, even while half slumped over her back and resting his head on hers.

This continued into the bedroom where now a very exhausted and naked Kasumi slept blissfully on the bed. Brandon, on the other hand, had dressed and quietly closed the door to their bedroom. He had thrown a humorous glance to his Maltese Falcon and entrusted it to keep its watchful eyes over her his girlfriend. In probably his first serious attempt at being sneaky, he lightly moved his gun from the pile of towels he had deliberately grouped together. With a glance at the door to ensure she was still resting, he reached under the garments to unravel the item wrapped around a cleaning cloth. Slowly, the black case of the tanto was visible and the blade left its sheath. Kasumi might be the best thief in the galaxy, but she hadn't found all the hiding places on Brandon's ship.

The tanto had received a thorough once over. The little polishing of the casing and handle now caught the light. The blade itself was perfect and Brandon knew better than to try and clean an original piece of metal of its patina. Most importantly, as he sheared it through one of the cloths, it cut sharply. Silent, yet deadly. Oddly, that phrase wasn't really something he associated with the woman lying in his bed. Killing wasn't something she contracted. It was that fine line between thief and assassin that she walked, though more likely skipped, along. If that time came, or if it was mercs or Cerberus, it was no choice at all, but it wasn't in her nature. It was why she was the best. Any thief could kill a guard if need be. She tried so hard not to let anything turn lethal. Aside from the fact that killing people brought a higher profile, some of them were just guys trying to make a living. Wives or kids or girlfriends. She had rules and morals when not many in the universe had them.

Letting his thoughts get the better of him was costing time, so he threw on his coat, placed the tanto in his jacket pocket, and holstered his guns in their polished gun leather. He made his way into the library where he knew Kasumi would read her book of Hamlet stories. She kept a bookmark made of paper wherever she left off and he knew that she'd see it when she'd start reading. Brandon picked up one of her pencils from her little stack; the pointed end smoothened from use. In an age of technology, they'd be very expensive if they had been purchased legally. The plan was to surprise her with a note on her bookmark to tell her when and where to meet him. He carefully opened the book to her current place and removed what he was expecting to be a blank piece of paper. When he unfolded it, there was writing already there…hers.

A longed coat pilot

Tall, dark, and heart of fire

His throat had dried with a little lump after he read it. She was writing a one of her haikus. Still not finished. The last line had a few scribbles and crossed out words. It stumped her. He tapped the blunt end of the pencil before writing:

A thief's hidden love

Underneath it he wrote:

Meet said pilot at the botanical gardens at noon ship time. Just bring yourself.

Excitement built as he finished the message. It was neatly placed back in its spot and book left deliberately on the couch. She'd be one to notice her book not where she left it. The giddiness in his stomach made him eager to head into the city for the next stage. Unfortunately, despite his haste, he had to stop himself at the hatch. There was a slight slump in his stance since he remembered he had to leave his polished guns behind. The habit of always being armed was hard to drop. However, before he took off his gunleather, he whipped _Excalibur_ from his holster in a heroic pose.

"Bwaa."

* * *

"This one understands your concern. However, it may not permit your item to be allowed into the premises," said the hanar customs advisor.

"But this is a…uh…ceremonial item of my people," Brandon lied in trying to find a way to allow it, "In our culture, an exchange is made in the declaration of true love."

"This one congratulates you in finding greaterment with a life partner. Nevertheless, your item is inadmissible to the station. This one also inquires how a blade can signify unity?"

"It's not what it is. It's what it represents. This dates back through her family. My research spanned centuries to track down a piece of her family's heritage. This was all I could find and I want to give it to her in the most beautiful place in the galaxy."

Brandon continued when the advisor didn't respond.

"Remember…however many words you read, or how many you speak, what good will they do if you do not act upon them? The Enkindlers gave gifts to all their children. Would you deny me the same to provide for my future younglings?"

What followed was a painfully long pause from the hanar. Thankfully, Brandon found himself strolling down the street, happily muttering to himself, "When in doubt, philosophize".

Under his arm was a white, steel box. In compliance with the rules, the tanto was to be secured in a locked case which he graciously abided by. It was still portable and would make the presentation more theatrical. He'd wanted to wait until the right time to give her present, but that proved difficult. He didn't know her birthday and anniversary dates didn't really exist. They were an unconventional couple after all. However, after wandering around Kahje, it seemed like the perfect place for his little surprise. The past four days were spent formulating a plan while they waited for the job to start. Whenever it would.

But for now…wine.

Traditional alcohol wasn't a highly tradable commodity in the hanar community. Stores that did have it were more suited for tourists, asari, and drell. These were located close to the ports for easy supply and convenience for incoming guests.

"This one is happy to welcome you to Kahje. Non-alcoholic refreshments and multispecies nutritions may also be enjoyed through the automated vendors," said the hanar clerk behind a counter. It was easy to assume most any human was a tourist.

It wasn't a large store, but had a decent variety. An easier route could have been taking one of Kasumi's asari wines on ship, but something special was needed for this. Miraculously, in the very limited human section, was the wine they first shared together on the _Normandy_. It was extremely expensive abroad, but moscato was her favorite. It was an easy choice. Meanwhile, a young drell teenager very discreetly slipped some of the small, expensive bottles of liquor into his jacket pockets. The clerk noticed the attempt and promptly responded. Aside from Blasto, hanar aren't well suited at wielding weapons. What they are good at revolved around automated defense systems. This was evident by the turret extending from the corner of the room and laser sighting on the teenager's chest.

"This one reminds our guest to refrain from malicious interactions with customers and taking inventory without payment. Symbiosis is greatly appreciated."

The young teen froze like a turian on Noveria. Slowly, the drell placed the bottles back on the shelf and wasted no time leaving the store. The auto turret disengaged and retracted back into the ceiling.

"This one apologizes that you witnessed the uncomfortable altercation," the clerk addressed Brandon holding his bottle. Speechless from the event, Brandon just nodded politely and purchased his wine.

The next item on the list was food. Considering Kahje's geographical location, it was easy to assume the seafood would be phenomenal. He followed the extra-net to what was considered the best sushi in the city. It brought him to a fish place far away from the tourist areas, but was fairly crowded and featured knife wielding drell. They were fast and precise but, unlike most whom encounter drell with sharp objects, the raw fish were the only casualties to their cuts and dices. He knew how much Kasumi loved it even though he wasn't a fan, but he wanted to set the bar high for this outing. Luckily for him, they had bite-sized portions of grilled fish. His order was prepared swiftly and it was impressive to watch the drell work. The one thing the cutters didn't do was roll the sushi. The items were pushed to a hanar, the owner unsurprisingly; who pressed them together and gently turned them into rolls. He did well for only having the ends of its tentacles. He glowed over the food, the equivalent of a nonverbal blessing, and then presented the finished items.

"This one wishes you a pleasant day."

After Brandon walked out of the sushi joint, his omni-tool relayed a message from Kasumi.

On my way, handsome.

After smiling to himself, he rushed towards the botanical gardens.

* * *

Visiting a city surrounded by water, the last thing to be expected was a garden of such beauty in its mist. Kahje's botanical gardens welcomed new visitors with an archway of vines. Inside was a separate climate controlled area that was reminiscent of a giant greenhouse. The ceiling followed the curvature of the domed city and greeted the sun's rays through the rounded glass. The metal walkways were small as most of the floor was patches of green grass. Everything was meticulously clean and tidy. While partly due to the staff of drell and asari, it was also the respect everyone showed to the nature around them. The flora was an interesting blend of asari and drell. Thessian based trees had long, thin branches with lush, thick leaves. It gave shade to those lying among weeds and shrubs that survived from the drell homeworld of Rakhana.

Brandon had scouted location like any mission and knew the best spot. It was just off the walkway, so the weeds were shorter and some of the flora would block most of the metal sections of the building. With the right angle, it could feel like there was no Kahje and in front would be a marvelous view of the sea as if from a cliff.

The soldier set down the bag of wine and fish; everything needed for a picnic in the park. The steel box he put inside his inner coat pocket. All that was left was his girlfriend, and as if she read his mind, she entered the garden…and that was when his mind stopped.

Kasumi looked around the area and spotted a frozen Brandon staring her way. Though she contained her excitement of this little outing, she deliberately let her legs crisscross towards him. When both were well within arm's reach, Brandon forced his voice to comment on the change of her outfit.

"I…didn't know you're hood came in red."

Her hood wasn't the familiar black. It was red; along with her leg and arm guards. The white Kevlar was jet black with red and gray stitching.

She leaned close and lifted his chin to close his gaping mouth.

"I call it my..."

Her hands crawled around his neck.

"…come hither hood."

Her painted lips meet his own. She was leaning so far over that they crashed onto grass with Kasumi on top of him. Their chuckles were muffled by the taste of each other's lips. Time seemed to slow as Kasumi traced her fingers down the side of his face. If it weren't for the public setting and hungry stomachs, things would have continued as they did in the shower.

"So…what's in the picnic basket?" she giggled.

Kasumi folded her legs as Brandon reached into the bag. Her eyes, if they were visible, nearly bulged at the sight of the prepared sushi. She slowly savored the freshly caught fish while Brandon munched on his own meal. Nothing was said while the two sat in contented silence.

"Care for some moscato?" he asked, pulling the wine from the bag.

"Oh you know I do."

Brandon was a bit embarrassed he forgot glasses, but that didn't stop their enjoyment. She took the bottle and had a light swig. She offered some to him and he gladly had a sip. A little sweet but not too much. Still cold as it made its way down. After they'd finished lunch, Kasumi leaned against Brandon's chest.

"You know I've been all around this galaxy, but this place…it really is beautiful."

Brandon watched how the light caught the side of Kasumi's face; lighting her pale cheek, yet her hood shadowed the other.

"Certainly can admire the view," he said.

The old soldier noticed something as he witnessed the beauty around him. To their left, a drell couple cuddled out on a mat. On their right, a hanar sat with a soft eyed asari snuggling in his tentacles. Normal couples enjoying a normal day. It felt weird. Not in the bad sense. Just because it was…well…normal. It lifted a huge weight from his chest for a few moments and everything seemed right in the galaxy. The burden of what was to come fled and made him recline a little more.

"Brandon…is something in your jacket?"

She must have noticed the box while leaning on him and that was when he decided to make the move. His smile broadened as he reached inside his coat. His fingers just grazed the metal-

BUZZ

The continuous buzzing and glow from his omni-tool interrupted the mood. Any other time he'd ignore it, but it was marked as priority. Didn't mean he couldn't expel a muffled groan, "This is a restricted number."

"_This one is well aware."_

The voice was instantly recognizable and any buzz from the wine evaporated. The hairs jumped straight up on Brandon's skin. Kasumi noticed his reaction and quietly listened in.

"_Our visitor's flight arrives in an hour. It'll be an asari cloaked in white. She'll be traveling alone. In the interest of avoiding suspicions, this one will keep it's people away and leave the job solely in your hands. As it has been discussed, the price will be doubled if this plight is forcefully removed."_

"I told you, we don't kill people."

"_It has been noted, but this one informs you that if you do not send her to the black and deep, it's own associates shall willingly perform the task. We live here. We die here. This place is ours. None others have the right to deface the Enkindlers and all they have accomplished."_

"You know, I support religious freedom," whispered Kasumi, "but that's just crazy. Give me the comm. I'll personally tell him no one is killin-"

"Consider it done," Brandon stated

"What!?" she forced to a whisper.

"_Excellent. See to it that she goes into the water…permanently. Remember, this one nor it's compact has any affiliation with you. Payment will be transferred as discussed…only if all conditions are met."_

The link cut out. As soon as it did, Kasumi nearly yelled, "What are you doing!?"

"Being curious. I think I'm picking up some bad habits from you."

This time it was Kasumi wondering what he was up to.

* * *

The port doors opened and the flight's passengers started spilling out into the lobby. Brandon leaned against the wall on one of the streets; half pretending to read the news on his omni-tool and half keeping an eye on the crowd.

"Okay. If she goes down the east corridor, I'll distract and you take her. She comes west, I'll nab her and you distract."

"_Right. You sure about this?"_

"I'm getting very invested in why this mystery guest wants to be killed. Maybe a nice chat is in order."

"_Oh you are sounding like me. That's weird- Brandon! White cloak and hood. That's our girl. She went west."_

Brandon waited until he had a visual sighting. Through the mass of people, a white hood stuck out from the crowd. Underneath was the blue skin of an asari. He blended into the mix and hurried past their mark to the planned distraction point. He got in position in an open doorway and waited for the signal. Right when the asari was passing one of the many vendors on the street, one of the display shelves seemed to magically topple over and sent all the merchandise crashing to the floor. This made every patron turn their attention to the incident; including their target. That was when Brandon reached out, covered the asari's mouth, and pulled her into the janitor's closet. Expecting an initial panic, Brandon tried to calm her down.

"Shhhh. Calm down. I'm only-"

The firm elbow into his gut dropped his guard and the punch to his face knocked him into the wall. Her veil fell from her body when the asari whipped around, biotics fully flaring, with deadly, blue eyes…familiar blue eyes.

"Liara?" he said, bemused.

Her threatening stare softened to bewilderment and her biotics ceased.

"Davis? What are you doing here!?"

"What are **you** doing here!?"

"Why are you all yelling in here?" Kasumi chimed in; uncloaking after the sudden turn of events.

The next few moments were a silent confusion until Brandon finally said, "First thing's first. We're being watched, so we need someplace discreet."

**A FEW MOMENTS LATER**

"This one feels like a flower," the hanar poet sang.

"I can't believe this is discreet," mumbled Brandon.

The sole hanar in the center of the stage glowed while prophesizing and rhyming about the Enkindlers and their gift of speech. Seated in the furthest row of the enclosed procession were Kasumi, Brandon, and Liara. They all took different routes to the reading and used fake accounts to get in. The poetry might have been enjoyable if they weren't preoccupied with the asari's visit.

"My reasons for being here are of utmost importance," she whispered, "I've been digging for clues in whatever Prothean literature I can find. Kahje is known to have intact cities and laboratories. According to my research, there is something in the old ruins that can help us against the Reapers. It's information we can't afford to waste."

"So you were gonna attempt it alone?" asked Brandon.

"Feron has a reputation on Kahje and would raise suspicion. I used my old contacts back when I was still researching Prothean archeology. This was too critical to trust anyone but myself."

She glanced at her would-be 'assassins'.

"It seems my caution was warranted. Now I have a hit out on me."

"Not exactly," hushed Kasumi, "Our task was to follow and steal whatever data you found. Something about hanar destiny and whatnot. Killing you was optional for us…but is pretty much guaranteed by someone here."

"Damn. I thought I was careful not to publicize my arrival. The hanar don't allow much leeway for infiltration and gathering."

"To be fair, we weren't told who you were. Zymandis just said some outsider who'd meet with the curator of the ruins. Didn't think he liked the idea of non-tentacled hands on their prized relics," said Brandon. Normally, he wouldn't let known the name of their employer, but this seemed to be a special instance.

"Zymandis? He's known for practicing some of the most extremist forms of Enkindler worship. Nearly obsessed with them. From what I've read, he'll be promoted to diplomat in a couple weeks-

"Shhh," scolded an asari in front of them.

Liara gave a silent apology. They waited until the applause for the first hanar before talking again.

"Well," slowly spoke Kasumi, "so long as we're in the same neighborhood, perhaps we can tag along to the ruins."

Any of what Brandon was planning to say came to a halt, "Wait. You sure that's a good-"

"Consider it insurance for both our interests. Brandon will keep an eye on you and I'll shadow. Zymandis thinks we worked our way in and you have few more pairs of eyes to cover you."

Liara thought for a moment before nodding in agreement.

Once again, Brandon was one against two and just sighed, "Guess we're going under the sea."

After they left the poetry session early, they made haste to Liara's meeting with the hanar that would allow them access to the Prothean ruins. Expecting to be watched, Brandon put together a disguise to appear as one of Liara's archeologist colleagues. The getup may have looked professional, but he felt like an idiot. Instead of his usual garbs, he had a knee length, white lab coat. A one piece, white and black medical uniform completed the ensemble. The glasses he wore were simply rectangles and he was thankful they weren't prescription. The only thing he had that wasn't part related was the locked box he put in his jacket pocket. He was still trying to keep the secret for Kasumi later. Otherwise, all he could do was pretend to look smart while Liara negotiated with the hanar curator. Quoyle, the hanar's drell assistant, stayed next to them with his arms crossed; partly amused by the conversation.

"This one does not want to appear rude, but it cannot comply with your request. The location you request is not open to public examination."

"With respect, I'm not here as a tourist," explained Liara, "The scientific group I represent want this-"

"If you wish to commune with our divine Enkindler artifacts, this one can suggest several other, more pleasant alternatives."

"Did I not mention the sizable contribution my organization wishes to offer towards this year's Cresting Bloom celebrations?"

"Yes well…your request is still unorthodox."

"Generosity is an enkindler virtue is it not?" said Quoyle, "Depending on how generous her group planned on being, I'm sure we could allow just a small peek at whatever she wants to see. If she covers the costs, I'll escort them myself. Personally."

"I can hardly imagine an amount large enough to be a fair exchange for even a glimpse at such ancient and magnificent wisdom," proclaimed Liara.

There was a slight pause before the hanar dipped the frontal part of his body lower.

"In that case, let this one help you imagine that number…"

* * *

Their shuttle pushed through the water towards the facility in the distance. The only human, visually, wasn't going to let on about being uneasy underwater. Growing up inland meant his experience with the ocean was very limited. Additionally, the idea of pressure squeezing the guts out of someone made him acutely aware of his surroundings. Despite all these negatives, the view out the window was something else.

"It's like another world," Brandon said in awe.

The water was illuminated by the ship's lights. The view was a mix of ocean floor reefs and fallen Prothean debris. Some of the ruins were intact buildings that once protruded from the sea.

"Kahje wasn't always covered by water," explained Liara, "There were islands and cities. The Protheans colonized the world and studied aquatic life. It is rumored to have been a research facility."

"What happened?"

She glanced at Quoyle to make sure he was occupied.

"Reapers. Information is sketchy, but from what I could gather, they melted the ice caps to flood the entire planet. The hanar call it the Great Cleansing. Entire cities were washed away while others sank to the new bottom."

"Strange. That doesn't fit the MO. I thought Reapers harvest organic life. Why waste an entire planet?"

"That's why we're here."

The ship docked with the old Prothean station. Initially, Brandon's first few steps were cautious into the submerged facility. The only positive was that it looked similar enough that he could pretend he was in space or above water. As soon as the door opened-

"Goddess…"

Scientists were strewn over the lab lying in pools of their own blood. Quoyle drew his Phalanx. Liara's body language stiffened and became alert if the need arose to bring up her biotics. The sickly feeling immediately fell away as Brandon leaned beside one of the scientists. Between missions with Shepard, or just wandering around Omega, the stench of a dead body became very familiar. But here there was none present.

"This was a recent kill," he muttered. And when he placed a pair of fingers on the drell's neck, he felt the faintest of a pulse before it was gone, "very recent."

They entered deeper into the facility. Still quiet. Still uneasy. Something was wrong. Someone was here. Brandon's instincts screamed it. It didn't help being without his guns and resorted to staying behind the asari and the drell. Despite the apparent danger, Liara couldn't suppress awe of what had been her lifelong studies.

"I've spent decades studying the Protheans, but this place is beyond anything I've ever seen."

Quoyle couldn't help but chuckle, "If you like this, I'll take you to the Mount Vassla ruins next. Just as many astounding Prothean artifacts, a lot less dead bodies-"

A light whoosh of air passed through the group. Odd for a breeze to come from underwater. A vent was the first thought, but then Brandon realized the drell had stopped very still. His mouth moved but no sounds came from his voice. A thin line across his chest grew redder and redder before he collapsed to the ground. While Quoyle put pressure on his wound, Brandon grabbed his fallen pistol. Like any gun, he checked the thermal clipped and ensured the safety was off.

"Get to those archives," he ordered Liara, "I'll cover you."

Liara didn't question and ran to the terminal, leaving the other two alone in the main room.

Brandon aimed down the hallway where they came and double checked where Liara had gone. If someone was here to stop them, they'd take the chance now. Who or what was a complete unknown and the uncertainty made his palms sweat. There was no sound except his own breathing, but he forced himself to calm down to get his heart to stop pounding in his ears. And when it did slow down, the breathing he thought was his…wasn't. A deep pit in formed in his gut and the hairs stood on the back of his neck.

He dropped his knees and tucked his arms into his body. Pivoting from his waist, he jammed his elbow into the supposedly empty space, but felt the weight of a body. He whipped around in the opposite direction and backstepped from the transparent attacker. One pistol shot hit the barriers and exposed the silhouette of both the infiltrator and the long length of a blade. The second shot missed when the figure jumped away. He was out of sight again and Brandon started to fire blindly at anyplace he could have been. Even with no visual, he could feel someone moving and tried to anticipate his shots. Shots hit the ground, the walls, shattered a panel of glass, but never hit the target. Not being able to see his opponent was getting the better of him as his shots became frantic.

Due to the speed of the blade, it materialized ever so slightly down the middle of the Phalanx. The gun splintered into pieces and left a stunned Brandon with no weapon and no time to react. A swipe came again and all he could do was feel it strike hard against his side. Oddly, it was followed by a crunch before knocking him to the ground. No pain followed. It was sheer luck that the blade hit the locked case and not his flesh. He immediately rolled to his side and felt the breeze of the sword swiping close to the ground. He kicked the empty space and heard a low grunt. Before Brandon could attempt to get on his feet, a piercing pain shot through his shoulder and pinned him to the ground. The metal beneath was impacted from the cloaked weapon, effectively stapling him to the floor.

"Impressive," a voice said, "Not many have ever been able to sense me coming."

"Well, you've never met my girlfriend," Brandon painfully taunted said with a half-smile.

"Quite fearless for a lowly corporal."

Brandon's eyes went wide for a moment. Only a few people in the universe knew his rank. The swordsman's breath bounced in Brandon's ear as annoyingly as his words. He was so close, giving the whole situation a mock sense of intimacy.

"A part of me doesn't want to kill you, just because you aren't worth the effort," said the invisible man.

There was no finesse as a boot pressed on Brandon's chest and the sword plunged from the wound. Brandon growled in pain and looked back at his unseen death dealer.

"The other part," he chuckled haughtily, "thinks it'll be-"

Suddenly, there was a surge of electricity that revealed the assassin. He cursed in his native tongue, something the translator couldn't keep up with, and fell to his knee. Following being exposed, he swung the sword at his backside where the space morphed into Kasumi back flipping away from his swipe. Her omni-tool stopped glowing from her shadow strike while smoke simmered from the assassin's armor.

"You talk too much," she snapped.

Brandon's eyes darted all over the foe gaining much intel in the short instance. Asian descent. Infiltrator. Highly trained based on his stance. Definitely former Alliance. Close quarter preference. No discernable emblems or logos on his armor, but considering they were in a Prothean research facility Brandon could guess who he was affiliated with. The assassin eyed up the thief with a small grin.

"Disabling my cloaking field. Clever girl. At least you'll bring me some fun," he said in a suggestive tone.

"Not in your life, Kono yarou."

"Then maybe your next, Sha bi."

The infiltrator launched towards her, raised his sword over his shoulder, and slashed downward. It forced Kasumi to dodge left and jump back, but immediately he returned with a swipe to the midsection, just missing her. She kept her distance more and more. The assassin's blade gave him farther reach and kept Kasumi from getting close. She may be flexible and fast, but she was unarmed. That was something Brandon decided to remedy. He reached into his blood stain lab coat and dragged out the battered box. He flipped open the bashed lid and unsheathed the tanto from its case.

Kasumi kept her breaths steady and bounced on her feet. The infiltrator let up for a moment; gauging her next move. He was good and fast, if not a bit arrogant. Oddly, something caught her eye behind him. It was light reflecting off something in his hand. He was signaling her. She then turned her attention back to the assassin. With a smirk of her own, the thief ran towards him. The infiltrator quirked his head at the apparent charge, but then attacked with a waist swipe. Anticipating the move, Kasumi slid under the sword at the same time Brandon tossed the knife. As Kasumi skidded to a halt, the black tanto fell into her hand perfectly. She was already on her feet with enough time to block away the assassin's follow-up.

Instead of her usual retreat, she moved into the infiltrator's space. This time it was the assassin who leaned back from her swipe aimed at his neck. Quick on his feet, he rolled forward to establish a clear fighting ground. This was when the thief's fight pattern changed. She started taking the offensive. On a missed slash, instead of moving away from his sword, she'd turn into the assassin's space and swiped at his chest or back. Her close proximity made his sword ineffective and forced the infiltrator to dodge and pull back. It was obvious that she was well-versed in knife play. He'd move out of reach of her swipe, but then she'd change hands and grip in the air for a second attack across his chest. The initial advantage of the swordsman was lost, but the challenge became more satisfying.

Countering another of her attacks, he swung into seemingly empty space. She was nowhere to be found. Staying cloaked, Kasumi circled him as he waited for her strike.

"Well, aren't you playing fair?" he said to his opponent.

She rushed in. The assassin tried to block but instead received a hard cut across his arm. The sword fell and Kasumi tried to stab him in the back. Unfortunately, the assassin clutched her wrist and flung her over his shoulder. She followed through and landed on her feet, but then he backhanded her so hard there was a noticeable crack when she slammed across the floor. This time she didn't get back up. Her eyes squeezed shut as she groaned in disorienting pain.

"Alright. No more games."

The infiltrator picked up his fallen weapon with his uninjured arm and moved over to Kasumi.

"I think I'll kill the girl first," then he looked at Brandon dead in the eye, "just so you'll know how hard you failed."

There was nothing he could do but watch the assassin raise his sword. Unexpectedly, a large shard of glass sped past and scrapped the left of killer's face. He seethed, clutching his eye as blood coated his hand, as he stared up at Liara. Her biotics glowed furiously, a stern look across her face, and a dozen fragments of glass hovered above her. Realizing his predicament, the assassin retreated as the asari outstretched her hand, launching an assault of sharp spears at the fleeting swordsman. It was only until he escaped through the access shaft did her biotics die down.

"Are you two okay?"

"No," strained Kasumi holding her arm, "who the hell was that?"

"An asshole," retorted a bloodied Brandon.

Liara slung an arm around her comrades and helped them off the floor. Quoyle tied a makeshift bandage around his torso and hurried them to the ports.

"We must hurry," he said, "I doubt that assassin will give up so easily."

* * *

Instead of taking the same ship, Quoyle got one of the other shuttles working in the bay. The drell took one route and the other three used a different path. The craft was set to auto as the three tended to each other's wounds.

"Son of a…" Brandon clenched through his teeth while Liara slathered medigel into his arm and shoulder.

"Sorry. I'm not this kind of doctor."

The sting died away while the wound became numb and stopped bleeding.

"You know, these kind of events seem to be less painful when Shep was around," Kasumi tried to say cheerily, but the pain in her voice was evident, "I could use one of her famous 'we can do it' speeches."

The thief had a dislocated shoulder. Liara gently placed her hands around her while Brandon delicately grabbed her arm. No matter what he did, he regretted having to hurt her.

"On three?"

She nodded.

"Okay. One-"

CRUNCH

Kasumi yelped in anguish when he set it in place. He needed her relaxed and distracted so she wouldn't clench up.

"What do you think?" strained Kasumi, "Cerberus?"

Liara put Kasumi's arm in a makeshift sling, "The Illusive Man contacted me in the archives. He said a few of his people had gone rogue, but I'd trust a Reaper before I trust him."

"So that's the Illusive Man's new messenger dog? You know Miranda might have been a bitch, but was much nicer to look at," remarked Brandon.

"It's irrelevant now. What matters is we have what we need."

Both Kasumi and Brandon looked to the asari.

"The Prothean databanks had encryption keys that unlock the files of their different facilities. It means the Protheans were trying to keep something secret. Something they couldn't get to Ilos, but was important enough for the Reapers to drown a whole planet to keep buried."

"So where is the next stop?" asked Kasumi.

"Mars, but if that assassin knows better, he'll have eyes on us as soon as we're topside."

"Not to mention our hanar contact won't be quite too pleased you're alive and we bailed on him," added Brandon, "We need to throw them off track. If eyes are on us, it'll buy you time."

"I can't ask that."

"You aren't. We are. You come with us until they realize you jumped ship. They'll either come for us or start from scratch. Both ways gets you time. We'll go off the grid."

"I can't thank you for this, Davis."

"Don't bother. Just get your ass to Mars."

* * *

This was a fun chapter. This takes place in Liara's Homeworlds comic with some changes.


	7. Ch7: Bad Company

**THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE REAPERS**

"Omega…you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy."

These were the words Brandon said to the cheese sticking to the top of the pizza box.

"You took that from a vid or something, didn't you?" as Kasumi nabbed a slice.

"Of course I did. What the hell else can we do stuck on this station for a month?"

He took his own piece with his good arm and seated himself in the cheap chair of their modest motel room. It was a feat that they had chairs **and** a table. The walls had been neglected for so long that the rusty, brown dirt was ingrained into the metal; making it forever unclean. It'd take a grinder to peel off the top layer for a clean surface. The only plus was any blood or fluids could easily be wiped away. There was no window to the outside world, however, they chose that for tactical reasons as well as price. It was also why the room was close to the stairs. Apart from the semi-clean bed, a flickering holoscreen, bathroom, and rattling air conditioning, there wasn't much else it offered.

"Omega isn't that bad. I like the seedier towns. They're prettier. Not that god-awful neon everywhere. The people here value their light. Just enough to know people live here."

"Just be grateful the light is red," he said with a mouthful, "If it were a blacklight, the challenge would be finding the spots **not** covered in filth."

Thankfully, the slice of pizza proved fresher than most anything on the station. After the debacle on Kahje, Omega was the smartest place to disappear. Weeks were spent staying as far under the radar as possible. They went so far as to placing the _Razgriz_ in dry storage rather than staying in the docks; hence, the unflattering motel. Their confinement meant avoiding jobs, even legitimate ones. It was a necessity for Brandon since he hadn't physically recouped from the fight with the assassin. The sword stab through his left arm left it hung in a sling. Kasumi's dislocated shoulder had healed up, though it was still sore. A couple weeks later, Feron retrieved Liara in secret via shuttle. The days dragged on and less and less likely were the thieves expecting Cerberus or drell to be breaking down the door. Boredom started to become their biggest enemy while they stayed hunkered down; there was only so much extra-net streaming that could fill the time.

"Can you believe this garbage?" as Brandon pointed to the holoscreen.

_Alliance News Network: Battlespace. Presented by journalist Diana Allers._

A dark haired woman filled the screen wearing an outfit that would have made Miranda Lawson's low cut uniform seem like a quarian's envirosuit.

"Yeesh. You think they'd put anyone in front of the camera," said Kasumi.

Allers started to speak, but Brandon quickly changed the channel.

_"…other news, Clan Thax member Radek, a high valued suspect in corporate vessel raids, was released on bail through an anonymous party. The same evening, he was found dead after Nos Astra police discovered his body stuffed inside a trash compactor."_

"That's a shame," Brandon stated without a trace of grief.

_"With me is renown Council Spectre Jondum Bau. Mr. Bau, can you tell us the extent of this occurrence?"_

_The short haired reporter turned her microphone to the salarian beside her. He was reasonably built for his species and sported dark black and yellow armor._

_"Well, Miss Wong, from what we know, this was a deliberate retaliation to Radek's involvement with an underground deal gone wrong. Whether it was done by the second party or his own clan remains unknown. Further investigation is underway to determine the perpetrators responsible."_

_"Clan Thax has made no comment about their former employee", replied Wong, "Before Radek's death, he claimed to have been meeting with an unnamed shadow gang of the Terminus Systems. There are also rumors that the same group might be connected with an incident on Bekenstein a few months ago at an art auction."_

_"I can't comment on any connection between those events. They remain separate instances and are speculative at best. However, my team and I are looking into these cases to ensure whoever responsible is captured and held accountable."_

"He looks so dashing on camera. If he didn't pursue me so relentlessly, he'd probably have a great girlfriend by now."

Brandon turned to Kasumi with a bemused look on his face, "This something I should be aware of?"

She looked at him curiously. Brandon double blinked and reiterated his concern.

"I'm referring to the 'being chased by a Spectre' part."

"Oh, no. Bau is smart. One of the best investigators out there, but he's usually a few steps behind me. And since we've been staying super low under the radar, he'll have more difficulty tracking us when the trail goes dry."

Brandon leaned back in his chair and counted with his fingers, "So we have a Spectre trying to catch us, hanar and drell assassins eager to dismember us, and Cerberus attempting to murder us."

"Normally, I keep my enemies list to around one, but these are special circumstances," the thief kidded. When she saw her joke had little effect, she playfully nudged her boyfriend, "Don't worry so much."

"If I don't worry for you, no one else will," he said with a smirk.

The thief dusted her gloves of crumbs and picked up a hefty satchel from the floor.

"I'm heading out. Mr. Pelery wants to update his collection of antiquities and expressed interest in one or two items. We could use the credits during our drought. Why don't you break up this long cabin fever take a stroll through the district?"

That got her boyfriend to chuckle, "Cause Omega is well known for its scenery."

Still, a chance to escape the motel room would not be passed up. He sleeved his right arm through his coat, but draped the rest over his injured arm and shoulder. Using his good arm, he placed his pistols in their respective holsters under his long coat. Again, the advantage of using a cavalry draw was access to both guns with either hand. Kasumi holstered her Predator and sheathed her tanto on her hip. She finally asked about it when things settled down and Brandon just said it was a gift. A true statement, though the circumstances were intended to be more romantic. Needless to say, she had become very much attached to it and that made her boyfriend secretly gleeful.

"Do you honestly think you'll find a buyer for those quarian poems?"

"How bout this, if I can't find a buyer by the end of today, we'll give it to Tali for her birthday."

"She told you her birthday?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"I wouldn't say 'told'", she said, complete with air quotes, "You stay out of trouble, okay?"

"Don't worry. I'll stay productive."

* * *

A calm breath left Brandon's lungs as he surveyed the altercation he found himself in. The batarian on his left, Kylan, wore an expression that equated to 'I don't like you'; essentially like most batarians. The vorcha across from him bore his teeth, though it was more of a grin than a threat. On the right, a turian captain named Gavorn surveyed his opponents like a soldier on the battlefield, though if his Viper was anything to go by, he might not enjoy the close quarters combat. The last member, a krogan in banged up armor, filled the space. Only the pupils of his reptilian eyes moved from side to side. The rest was a solid, unwavering mass of muscle with a Claymore on his hip.

It had been a while since Brandon fought foes like this, but it was irrelevant now. Knowing his odds, he made his play.

"Call," he said while tossing in his credits.

The game of Skyllian Five continued on for more than an hour. Brandon's credits had changed around from their original pre-set. He lost, came back to status quo, and won a few more. It wasn't the lottery, but enough to buy dinner for all of next week. Time spent playing poker in the Alliance taught him a few things. Playing against Kenneth on the SR-2 taught him more, but that came at a steeper cost. Omega, however, attracted a different class of characters to the game. Gavorn's prejudice against the vorcha was costly when Kylan caught him off guard. The vorcha was the high roller with a grin that never changed no matter what cards he got. It was similar to watching a crocodile; almost always showing teeth even when it's not looking for a meal. The krogan, despite having a vague grasp of the game, hadn't lost a substantial amount of credits. Sometimes it was blind luck since he didn't know what he had. Other times he just rode out a hand to see what would happened.

"Fold," Brandon declared while downing the last in his tumbler.

The hand was bad. Nothing worth keeping and nothing to save it. He propped himself against the grimy wall and saw it better to leave the others to fight amongst each other. The decision for his spot, apart from a 180 degree view, left no chance for someone to make a surprise attack from behind. A tactic "Wild Bill" Hickok heeded all but one time in his poker games, and that one time landed a bullet through the back of his head.

"Three Aces," the Vorcha declared throwing his cards down.

Again, the toothy grinned player had taken the pot. The batarian gritted his teeth when he tossed down a two pair. Gavorn said something in turian, most likely a curse from his harsh sub-harmonics, when his own two pair was worthless. The krogan was the last one to throw down an empty hand. For being the least experienced, he took his losses rather well. Playing a krogan usually was a risk in itself. The last thing anyone wanted was a player with a short temper, especially one that could rip someone's arm out of their socket when they lose.

"You know what I like about you humans?" the krogan bellowed, sloppily throwing back his drink, "You humans get very creative when it comes to weapons."

Unusually, the armored player had a lack of experience with alcohol and acted younger than his age would presume. Very similar to Grunt in a way. It didn't hinder him from downing his mugs of ryncol. In that respect, the two krogan were exactly alike.

"How do ya figure?" asked Brandon, casually glancing at his new cards. Nothing good, but he still had a pair of eights.

"You have this thing…it's loud…with a chain…and rotates. Can slice through everything."

"A chainsaw?"

"THAT'S IT! A chainshaw. Oh, if the krogan had those during the Rachni wars. Cut through those bugs like a hungry varren through meat. I was thinking make one with an eezo core…and put a blade on the side. A chainshawsword."

Brandon laughed. It shouldn't have been that funny, but the alcohol was helping. A round of drinks, actually quite a few rounds, flooded the table as the game went on. The pretty asari waitress would flaunt her 'assets' a bit more towards the one with the biggest pot. More good news for the vorcha. A good buzz was following through all players now. In Brandon's case, a bit more than he expected. A misstep since his vision started to blur round the edges.

"It's funny. The Geneva Convention outlawed flamethrowers on my planet, but we can run around with chainsaws. What's your story? Which clan did you come from?"

The krogan leaned back and sighed. For a brief moment, a twinge of shame shone in his eyes.

"I had no clan. Korlus was a desolate wasteland. I was…not perfect. A failure. That was what my father told me."

"Hey, no one is ever perfect, friend," the human said while raising, and partially spilling, his going on sixth glass of bourbon.

The krogan chortled and rose his ryncol, "Yeah, but I never knew. All I knew was walking, talking, hitting, and shooting. I was shown nothing beyond that. It wasn't until I met this human. She was different than anyone else I had encountered. She even offered to let me follow her. I chose to stay, but she stirred something in me. When the bodies stopped coming, I forged my own path. I found my way to Omega and proved my worth to one of the most legendary krogans of all time. Now my existence has purpose-"

"Hey!" interrupted the batarian, "Skip the sob story and get back to the game."

"Easy. Were all friends here" as Brandon tossed in some credits, "Call."

Three more cards entered his hands.

"Surprised you didn't fold, human," scowled Kylan, "I've seen your women do much the same."

"I didn't think you liked our women? What? Can't get a batarian girl?"

The jab made the batarian scowl a little longer than normal, so Brandon turned to the turian.

"What about you, Gavorn? Between asari and humans, you must be good with the ladies?"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. They can't get enough of me," he smiled smugly.

"Bah," jested the vorcha, "Me hear it not the ladies he likes."

Gavorn didn't retort, but Brandon noticed the sharp twitch in his mandible from the comment which was followed by a substantial raise. Everyone called around the table. Now it was the moment of truth.

"Uh…two pair," replied the krogan with a grin. It was a good hand, so his happiness was warranted.

"Kings and threes. Nice," replied Gavorn before putting his own cards down with a flare of his mandibles, "But not as nice as these. Pair of Jacks and pair of fours."

Eyes turned to Brandon and he laid down his cards, "Aces and Eights."

The moment as top player couldn't be savored with the batarian's snicker, "You call that a dead man's hand, right? Well you're dead against this."

Kylan laid his cards showing all spades, a Flush. Brandon was out. It was the turn of the vorcha who just kept smiling as he'd been all night. His cards came down with two deuces and three sevens, a Full house.

"Winnah winnah chicken dinnah!"

Gavorn puffed a grunt of distaste. Despite their losing hands, both Brandon and the krogan chuckled in unison at the vorcha's cackling. The winner swept his credits towards him, but then Kylan grabbed his arm.

"What is that? Four hands in a row? No one is that lucky," the loser spat.

"Me no cheat," the lightness gone from the vorcha's tone.

"Ease up, bud," said Brandon, "He's been playing fair and square."

The attempt to diffuse the situation backfired and Kylan reared into the human's face.

"You seem quick to defend him. You've lost the least out of all of us. You're actually walking away with some."

"Yeah! I decided to team up with the vorcha that just happened to be a mean cardshark," sarcasm layered in his words, "No one would expect that."

"What's a shark?" asked the krogan.

Gavorn pushed Kylan off the vorcha, "Knock it off."

"Don't you touch me, Gavorn."

"You're just pissed cause one of **them** cleaned you out."

"What you mean 'one of them'?," the coldly, calm vorcha asked, "Mr. lover of boys?"

Gavorn reeled towards vorcha and jabbed a finger into his chest, "I mean that you're lying member…"

"Ah shit," mumbled Brandon.

"…of a no good race."

The vorcha raised his arms, omni-blades fully extended, and ready to slice both the batarian's and turian's heads off. The Kylan had his Predator aimed at the Vorcha with Gavorn following with his own sidearm. Brandon had _Excalibur_ squared on the batarian.

"Don't move," ordered Gavorn.

The distinctive sound from a large shotgun grabbed the attention of the entire table.

"No. By all means move," said the krogan touting his Claymore at Gavorn.

The five-way Mexican standoff would have garnered a crowd anywhere else. The Omegan patrons in the bar noticed the altercation briefly before returning to their own matters. And seeing how anyone considered police were at the table, a resolution would have to end here.

"Looks like were calling it a game, fellas," drunkenly quipped Brandon, "Now why don't we lower our weapons, huh?"

The batarian sneered and turned his pistol at Brandon, "You think you could even hit me with that thing, you one armed, drunk fool? Hell, I bet you're seeing double."

The human responded by tossing _Excalibur_ in his slung hand and cross drawing _Arondight_, albeit sloppily, with his right.

"Yeah, well I've got two guns now," he countered with a devilish smirk, "one for each of ya."

Gavorn's talon clicked on the side of his trigger. The vorcha's brow narrowed. Not unexpectedly, the krogan chuckled excitedly from the game's escalation.

"We get to bet on who lives?" asked the grinning krogan.

"I'll split that pot with ya," called Brandon.

"HA. Done."

The beating of the bass coming from the club was close to the hearts of the players. Only until Gavorn started to lower his weapon did the rest slowly do the same.

"Just kidding," Gavorn joked, though it was easy to see how strained it was.

"Yeah. Without people like you, Gavorn here would be out of a job," glared Kylan at the vorcha and Brandon before walking away. The turian followed shortly after.

"Bah. Still, good game," as the vorcha gathered his winnings.

"You're alright, human," decreed the krogan with a smack to Brandon's back which was harsher than he would have liked, "You ever need a favor around here, let me know."

The players disbanded and Brandon staggered to the bar.

"Shot of whiskey," as he rested his arm on the stained metal.

The bartender nodded and provided. Drunk to hyperalert had taken the edge off his sway. And seeing how the standoff didn't turn into a bloodbath, he considered it rightfully earned.

_"In an unprecedented move, David Edward Anderson stepped down as the human representative for the Council."_

Brandon eyes moved to the holoscreen above the bar. A small montage of Anderson showed his various duties as both Alliance commander and councilman.

_"As the Council's first member representing humanity, a still relatively new member of the galactic traverse, it was unexplored territory as to what the new councilor would bring. During his time, he established new trade agreements with the volus, elcor, and turians. Emphasis was placed on security and safety to re-strengthen the Citadel defenses after the geth attack two years ago."_

Brandon scoffed heavily and the glass was as quickly engulfed. He tapped the bar for another.

_"The reasons for his departure haven't been disclosed. It is speculated that the former Alliance Captain had become exhausted from the political side of governing. Not an uncommon scene as many former turian councilors had given the same reasons, despite their prowess in military leadership."_

The screen cut to Anderson in the Council chambers shaking the hand of someone slimier than a center stage pole at Afterlife.

_"His replacement, Donnel Udina, was sworn in the same day as the new human Councilor. Here is a clip of his speech as he prepared for his new responsibilities."_

Udina took to the podium and blew nothing but hot air to Brandon's ears. He tried to ignore him with more whiskey, but it was hard to block out his bombastic voice.

_"I have great shoes to fill, but I assure you, I will use the best of my abilities to do my part in the galactic network. I want to make it clear that I have not abandoned my own people. I fight for your freedoms as much as the safety of this Council. Some may think the Alliance isn't watching over you. That you have been discarded. This cannot be further from the truth. To quell these fears, I'm pleased to report the Alliance Navy's foothold is stronger than it ever once was. Our fleets have been amassing since the Battle of the Citadel where they joined in taking down the geth threat…"_

Another empty glass hit the bar and was filled to the brim. The old soldier's eyes were like daggers staring at the pompous, political prick.

_"…and are spreading patrols further to protect any attacks from beyond the veil. I am also happy to dispel the rumors that the Council isn't capable in protecting its lone colonies. Many of these colonists have been systematically murdered by unknown forces. Over the past few months, these colonies have been defended and are growing in numbers. Due to my diligence, former Councilor Anderson, and the Council itself, we proudly decree that the perpetrators of these heinous acts to our colonies have been stopped and safety has been restored for all-_

The shot glass exploded when Brandon whirled it against wall beside the screen.

"Hey! You break it you bought," yelled the bartender.

Brandon tossed credits on the bar and stormed out. He found himself standing in the middle of the street, squeezing the bridge of his nose and taking slow breaths. It was beyond insulting to see everything Shepard had done, what her team had nearly died for, get glossed over and regurgitated as a lie. Worse, the second time in more than two years.

His omni-tool chimed and stopped his train of thought. It was a call from Kasumi, so he gathered himself before accepting the call.

"So you gonna gift wrap those poems for Tali?" he answered trying not to sound angry.

_"Okay, you were right. Meet me on the main floor. We're hitting up Afterlife tonight."_

Kasumi would have laughed at the confused expression on his face, "Why Afterlife? I thought clubs and half naked asari weren't your thing?"

_"Nope, but they have some variety shows planned tonight."_

He slowly said, "Dare I ask what?"

_"Come on. It'll be fun. No guns. No assassins."_

"Oh, I'll believe that when I see it. On my way."

He stalked his way up towards Afterlife. The foot traffic busied as the shops made their sales. Everything from 'half-priced' equipment to 're-purposed' armaments was a handshake away. On his route, he heard the tirades of the resident mad prophet.

"Repent! The end is nigh. The blatant attack on Aratoht didn't come from some accident. The lesser races…krogan, vorcha, humans…they tainted the galactic fabric. Our worlds are collapsing from their impurity and it will spread to all of us, unless we bask in remorse for our evil ways and abide to the Word. You! Human!"

Brandon noticed the finger pointed in his direction and glanced at the batarian.

"You are a blight," the prophet declared.

Brandon started to walk away…

"Humans will commit the galaxy to ruin. They are the hand of the Reapers."

…then he stopped hard. His stare pivoted around to meet a set of the preacher's eyes. He found himself marching through the crowd and pointed a threatening finger at the batarian.

"Don't you **ever** compare me to one of those things!"

The harshness of his tone simply feed the prophet's declarations.

"And the lesser race speaks out to deny what the Word decries. Humanity stains all within its path. It is their destiny which we need to wipe clean of our world."

"Why bother!? Least the world will be out of its misery."

"Those who betray the Word and all its brethren deserve fire and scolding oil for their wicked ways. No one would ever ask the likes of you for anything, human," he said with an angered scowl.

A part of Brandon wanted to scream out the truth, even though it would be little more than a drunk, crazy's ranting to another. Least someone would hear what would really happen. However, before he could, a light hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Getting into fights with mad prophets now?"

He turned to see Kasumi put her hands hips. It was in a playful kind of way, but her face was more worried than amused.

"Just...lost my cool a bit."

They started away from the Prophet's boasts. Kasumi could tell he was a bit on edge, but she ignored it for now, "So did you manage to stay productive?"

He handed her his winnings, "Not a slammer, but not bad for Skyllian Five."

"Sweet. Next time, I get to sit on the game. Haven't played poker in a while."

"I'll make a note of that. So what's this show anyway?"

"You'll see," she said with a glint in her eye.

Brandon could only guess.

* * *

Afterlife was still packed despite the alternative event taking place. To its credit, girls were still dancing on the side tables and drawing in the lowlifes and the dregs. The center stage housed the incoming festivity for the evening. Kasumi sat casually in her seat and was joined by Brandon with two glasses.

"One of the most expensive things they've got."

At that recommendation, Kasumi was quick to taste, "Woah. That's good."

"It's Asari Honey Mead. Supposedly, it's brewed from an Ardat-Yakshi monastery."

"All the best honey seems to come from there."

The two sat there as more flooded into the club. Most expected the usual grind. Others came for the change of activities.

"This isn't one of their monthly burlesque acts," said Brandon, "I'm surprised you haven't jumped on the casino-ship they have every month. Bound to be a good payout for one day's work."

"I'm happy I didn't. The shootout after the last jackpot was pretty bloody. And even I know better than to break Omega's one rule."

"Right. Don't fuck with Aria."

More booze circled around the crowd. The girls were smart enough to stay away from the sea of rowdy men. The bulk was a mix of mercenaries and members of all the gangs. Most were drunken leftovers who didn't realize what show was coming up next. No ill will was visibly seen. Afterlife was just barely a no-war zone. Most knew better than to cause a gang fight on Aria's turf.

"It's funny. I was the town drunk not even a year ago in this place. Now as a thief and criminal, we blend in nicely around here," Brandon reminisced.

"People who visit Omega vanish, yet it doesn't necessarily mean they're dead. It's a good place to start anew, especially if your background involves undesirable labels. I believe the krogan call it the 'land of opportunity'."

"You choose that one over the asari's 'heart of evil'? Or the turian's 'world without law'?"

"All true. I just chose the one that corresponds best."

"I think the 'place of secrets' from the salarians corresponds best for you, am I wrong?"

Luckily, the red hue of Afterlife hid any chance of Brandon catching her blush, "Secrets do have high price tags."

The spotlights lit the stage and a hanar appeared. Groans already started from the audience. The hanar was undeterred by the reaction and spoke, "This one is pleased to present 'The Ministry of Dexterity'."

Two asari dancers brought a large box on stage to the soundtrack of catcalls and shout-outs from the spectators. The asari left the stage and the hanar reached into the box and withdrew three bowling pins. There was a moment of stillness, and then the hanar started to juggle them in the air above him.

The drunkards of the crowd started laughing.

"Hey, tentacles!" one such drunk yelled, aiming his Carnifex, "Catch this!"

He fired his pistol and blew apart one of the bowling pins, much to the annoyance of the crowd.

"This one…please asks that shooting is refrained," said the frazzled hanar.

Hesitantly, he placed the other pins back into the box and took out five glowing orbs of different colors. He started to juggle them again, but soon was joined by another hanar. The second grabbed another set of orbs and began tossing them above his body. The duo continued this before turning to each other and started tossing their items from one to the other. A third hanar joined them with his own set of orbs and before long the three of them were sending them to each other in a three way triangle. The orbs themselves spiraled around creating a stream of light that was enhanced from the darkness of Afterlife.

"It's mesmerizing in a way," whispered Kasumi to Brandon.

"Compared to their poetry readings, this must seem like a rock concert."

The hanar were oblivious to any taunts as their items soared around with the fluidity of a ballet. They flew higher into the air and faster with every cycle. It looked effortless to the pink performers as all their tentacles moved. Finally, all the orbs shot into the air and were then caught; not a single one hit the ground. The trio turned to the audience with a small bow, or the equivalent of tilting their fronts down. Unexpectedly, most of the rowdy crowd clapped enthusiastically. Others shouted and fired their pistols into the air.

"That was…thoroughly entertaining, I have to say," said Brandon.

"It could have been much much worse. I've seen salarian mimes."

Soon the booming bass and scantily clad dancers emerged to the usual club atmosphere. Brandon and Kasumi became two nameless faces in a sea of people; hidden in plain sight while finishing their drinks. Despite neither being a fan of the usual routines playing on the stage, they didn't want to leave just yet. They wanted to bask in the time before succumbing to lockdown in their motel room.

* * *

For the record, Hanar jugglers are canon. Read Aria's Shadow Broker files. Also, I can't think of anything worse than Udina dismissing and yet taking credit of everything Shepard does against the Collectors after the fact. Totally something he'd do.


	8. Ch8: Two Steps from Hell

**TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE REAPERS**

A painful gruff echoed from one of the passageways of Omega, followed by a loud crash. Two salarians and an asari stood over a lone turian. The gang in relatively expensive armor while the other made due with oversized, ill-fitting clothes.

"I told you to pay what you owe," the asari said, emphasized with a swift kick to the dextro's gut.

"The shipment you gave me sold less than it should have. I'll have your money by next week," the turian said between coughs.

Both the salarians lifted the turian up off the ground by his shirt, so their boss wouldn't have to kneel to his level.

"You said that two weeks ago. I swear, are you getting high on your own supply? That's not good. That's not good at all."

"I'm not using. I'll get you the money-"

Her fist glowed blue as it plowed across his face, shattering his nose.

"That should make it harder for you to inhale that stuff."

The turian became solely supported by the salarians now. And this was while any passersby went on about their lives. It may not have been the main street, but it was far from deserted. Some glanced at the alteration, but kept moving. They didn't even speed up. Others barely raised an eye at the all too common occurrence.

"I'm just..." the turian tried to speak while blood poured from his nostrils, "having a little bit of bad luck."

"Well, it just got worse," she said with another punch to his face.

His head went limp, but the asari raised it back to her eyes.

"But because I'm such a nice girl, you'll get one extra week to repay your debts."

The turian's face barely had the strength to soften upon the news. It was the desperate joy of renewed hope.

"Thank… you-"

He smacked the ground as soon as the salarians dropped their hold, much to their boss' amusement.

"If you can't make ends meet, then I start removing popular parts of your anatomy. Remember, you're worth more on the market in pieces."

She motioned her men off, but not before delivering a final kick to his gut. It was more for her satisfaction than punishment. The asari rolled her neck from side to side and flexed her fingers. It was so petty and rarely did she break a sweat. Just another routine errand on her rounds. However, that routine was interrupted when she saw a handicapped human, the only one who had stopped and watched the ordeal.

"What are you looking at?" she snarled.

"Just going to the docs," said Brandon.

The asari's biotics glowed in unison with her pulse. Her eyes were partially bloodshot and her fingers were twitchy. It was easy to guess that she was strung out on red sand. Not a lot, but enough that all her nerves were itching for a fight with her false sense of invincibility.

"Get the fuck outta here or I'll break your other arm."

Both her salarians approached to emphasize the point. Brandon glanced at her men, the turian barely moving on the floor, and then the asari herself. Begrudgingly, he turned and walked away, though he wasn't immune to their chuckles when he did. His good hand balled into a fist before relaxing. He could have stopped them there and then, but his brain was smart enough to override the overwhelming urge.

"Incognito, remember?" Kasumi whispered, cloaked beside him.

"Yeah, I know."

When they rounded the corner, she appeared, "I don't necessarily like it either, but this is Omega."

Omega. It was the dark, twisted counterpart to the Citadel. Exact words of the codex. It even had its own version of Tevos, but skipped over a lot of the political bullshit. Plus, Aria didn't think she was superior because she was asari. She knew she was superior because she was the supreme overlord of Omega. Ironically, the Citadel had levels that, with the right kind of eyes, would be no different than its bastard twin.

Contrary to the station's popular reputation, most of the people were decent enough. Not every outcast was a criminal. For many of the poorer class, they took refuge in the Gozu district deep in the lower levels of the station. This was the closest to civilization they would get. Not everyone could afford a Citadel home or an Omegan tenement. The residential apartments housed the more common folk; complete with its own life support systems independent from the rest of the station. It was both a blessing and a curse when a strange plague swept through. Immune to only the humans, but that did not stop the death toll from climbing. At the time, Brandon was so drunk he didn't even care. It was after that mission when Shepard found him wallowing on the floor. Amazing how things could change in less than a year.

Much in the same vein was the clinic that had been setup. It was Mordin's project and there were many stories about its initial formation and the 'grievances' the salarian had to deal with. Free healthcare wasn't something the Blue Suns favored unless they were getting a cut. They received much more than a 'cut' from the former STG specialist. Months afterward, the clinic was still crowded, even without the spread of some poisonous plague. Injuries ranged from drunken scuffles to bullet wounds to the occasional flu that required proper antibiotics. The downside of its popularity led to the inevitable waiting times.

Brandon sat with the rest of the injured and waiting and tried to occupy his mind with something else. Beside him, Kasumi hovered over his holopad and chuckled at the page, "_Badass Weekly_? Are you looking for your name in this?"

"No," Brandon said, sheepishly enough that it made Kasumi grin, and moved the pad from her view, "I'm just… making sure it hasn't come up. Otherwise, I'd be compromised."

"You don't want to become infamous."

"I don't… doesn't mean Solomon Gunn can't be. Word of mouth gets around."

Brandon could feel the quirky smile before he saw it on Kasumi's face.

"Advice from a professional, if people keep looking for a puppet, they might pluck one of the strings. And we don't want that, do we?"

He nodded knowingly from her words, like the child who knew she was right, but didn't want to openly admit it.

"Mr. Reynolds, Doctor Daniel Abrams will see you now."

Kasumi had to nudge Brandon at the announcement. He quickly got up and was escorted to one of the rooms where Daniels was waiting, "So, Mr. Reynolds, what's the injury?"

"More of a checkup, really," as he patted his arm.

"Those are pretty rare around here. Let's see it."

Brandon removed his coat, sling, and shirt. Doctor Daniels x-rayed the two month old sword wound with his omni-tool.

"What's the prognosis, doc?"

"The touch and go sealing will leave a nice scar, but it's healed up pretty well. Muscle tissue looks to be regenerated, so you should have full functionality. I think you are one of the few people who listen when we say 'rest and try not to use it'."

"Work has been kinda slow."

Daniels stretched the arm in various directions and applied pressure to the healed area. It was still stiff from lack of movement, but it felt a lot better after nearly two months of ease.

"Arm might feel a little rigid, but that's to be expected. Otherwise, it's as good as can be. I'd recommend you refrain from," he looked at his datapad, "'Falling on a kitchen knife' for a while."

"I'll try. They just seem to come at me."

"Well you fared better than those who 'fell on a bullet'."

Brandon redressed, this time putting his arm into his coat sleeve. He rolled his shoulder and sighed as his joints faintly cracked. When he left the room he had a little bounce in his step.

"Have you seen a little girl here?" Brandon heard someone say.

A very worried salarian was pacing around the room. His complexion was lightly tan, even the dark spots by his horns weren't much darker. He sported common clothes, but not common enough to be a resident on Omega. More Illium common. He was going from person to person, mostly being ignored, until he reached the front desk.

"Has a girl come in here in the past month? She's a salarian. Blue eyes-"

"I'm sorry, sir. We have a lot of patients that come in daily," said the asari receptionist.

"Please, she's been missing and I've checked this entire station. Maybe she got hurt and she came here?"

The receptionist sighed and tapped her console, "I checked our files. I cannot disclose personal records, but I can assure you no female salarians have been admitted. Plus I'd remember if we even had one."

The salarian's face fell in a way that could only come from repeated bad news. He left the clinic, but was much more disheartened.

"Poor guy," Brandon overheard from the asari, "If it's been a month they're usually dead or sold."

In a flash, all his good feelings were evaporated before he even got past the reception desk.

* * *

"Good to see you are still in one piece," Kasumi said when they strolled out of the Gozu district.

Her partner didn't reply. The more he looked around him and Omega's true nature seemed all the more apparent. A vorcha pushing an old woman down for her credit chit. A faint, painful scream in the distance followed by a gunshot. He needed to get back to the motel and just relax. However, a sparkle of an emerald green dress caught his eye. At least it wasn't something that was brooding. It was just downright unusual for that kind of color to appear in a place like this. Too conspicuous. Too flashy. Brandon looked further and noticed the wearer the dress was a salarian. And that salarian was a she. The rarity alone stole his gaze. Even for Omega, there was a better chance of running into a female turian than a salarian woman. Her skin was pale in contrast to her dress. Unlike male salarians, her horns were stubby, short, and curved. Eyes were much wider and expressive. Her overall stature was most easily described as petite, especially with her long and slim hands.

Less than flattering by a longshot was the human sitting awfully close beside her. His nose was smushed into his face from losing too many bar brawls. His teeth met much the same fate. The hair on his head had been combed over to cling to whatever youth he thought he had. Hygiene was unkempt as badly as his clothes were. Eyes so dark it was like looking into an empty pit. His dirty hand crawled up the girl's leg and squeezed her thigh. Further and further it ventured upwards.

Brandon's eyes became stern and steely as he seemed forced to watch.

"We are just going to have a nice little chat. Just you and me. Doesn't that sound nice, sweetheart?"

It wasn't hard to see the girl shaking the more he touched her. The scene intercut between more people who kept going straight ahead or ignored it altogether.

"Shhh, shhhh. It's okay."

His words were far from reassuring as the girl tried to look away. Oddly, she didn't move or try to run. She stayed where she was. The man gently pulled her face back to him with a disgusting sense of intimacy, "No, no. I'm not going to hurt you, sweetie."

This was getting too much, so Brandon marched himself away from that scene; much faster than Kasumi had been walking.

"Hey, you alright?" she asked when she caught up.

"Fine. Why?" His words couldn't have been more emotionless.

"I mean, you've been on edge all morning."

"And you haven't?" he spat.

Kasumi froze and the smallest of a gasp could be heard. He immediately regretted his actions and rubbed his temples, "I'm sorry, Kasumi. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

If he couldn't feel worse, now he directed his anger on his girlfriend and felt horrible for it. Small hands guided his chin under her hood to her shadowed eyes. He felt her forehead on his and he sighed wearily. It helped.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

"I'm not a fan of it either. Believe me. But this isn't Citadel space. Crime is legal here."

"It's not legal. There's just no law. Some days… I can understand why these people wanted an Archangel."

They made it back to their 'glamorous' motel without any more incidents to dwell on. Being the chivalrous guy Brandon was, he opened the door for Kasumi and gestured for her first. She smirked, happy he was perking up. He started to close the door-

"Wait!"

Short of closing, he turned to feel an emerald rush of color slam into his chest.

"Please, let me in! Just the lobby, I just need to get inside the building."

It was the girl from before. She looked up with wide blue eyes. Her breaths were so quick from running and she was frantic to get in. There was a fresh bruise on the side of her head and her emerald dress was ruffled and ragged.

"Hey! Hold that little bitch there!" Someone yelled in the distance.

The dirty human stormed over to them. A two fingered mark reddened on his cheek while the red veins in his eyes were blazing. She looked back and panic washed across her features.

"Please, I just let me in-"

Brandon pushed the door closed. Her eyes widened even more before her face fell in defeat. However, the next thing he did was push her behind him, effectively making a wall between her and the other man. In this situation, it was getting stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"There's a problem here?" Brandon asked calmly.

"None of your business, buddy. I want my property back."

"Look, just calm down and take a breath," Brandon held up his arms to diffuse the situation.

"No. It's simple. I paid for her. She is mine. Get out of my way."

The man reached around and snagged her arm. He was a large brute compared to the salarian and pulled her with ease. He was so enraged and narrowly focused on her that the sharp tug on his neck completely jogged his concentration. His disorientation grew when his head pounded against the wall of the building and then firmly pressed against it.

"What were you gonna do?" Brandon nearly growled.

"What... fuck you!"

Brandon intervening hadn't been a conscious decision. As Thane would put it, it was a reaction of the body. However, the pistol pressed underneath the pervert's chin was very deliberate.

"Try again or I decorate the wall with your brains, now what were you gonna do!?"

The pervert didn't answer. He was more confused than anything, but his level of aggression was rising. Before it moved too far, Brandon let the barrel of his pistol fall into his hand and, with the butt of his gun, delivered a hard blow across the guy's face. The pervert hit the ground hard without even trying to slow his fall.

"You alright?" Brandon asked the girl.

She shook her head, but soon terror spread across her face, "They… they are going to kill me."

"What?"

"They said if I didn't do what they wished then…"

"Hey. No one's going to hurt you. Understand? And don't you ever stand for that. If someone tries to kill you, you try and kill'em right back."

"I… um… okay."

Brandon could have let this go right here as his good deed, but he had a feeling who this girl belonged to.

"You by any chance have a dad on this station? Tan skin? A little freckly by the horns?"

Her face perked up immediately, "That's him! Is he alright? I feel like I haven't seen him in months."

"He's… fine," Brandon brushed over the question, "Look. I'm here to help, but we gotta get off the street."

"Help? You? How... how do I know... you won't... won't try to-"

The woman gasped when the pervert charged, roaring and screaming, with a blade in hand. Brandon didn't need to draw his weapon when the man's head snapped back with his nose exploding in broken cartilage. Now he was sprawled on the floor; unconscious and bleeding. Puzzling to the girl was he appeared he hit nothing but air. That was when Kasumi materialized, holding her now blood-stained pistol.

"Well, I already have a girlfriend," Brandon replied casually.

The salarian looked back and forth between the two before nodding in agreement. Brandon turned to Kasumi and prepared for the hard sell.

"Kasumi..."

"Why do you say my name like you're expecting an argument about this?" as she holstered her weapon and walked with the girl.

After being momentarily stumped, he followed them inside and into their motel room. Kasumi was better suited to deal with the girl and guided her to a chair.

"So what's your name?" Kasumi asked.

"Jaelen."

"That's a lovely name. You come from one of the colonies?"

"Sur'Kesh actually. I was traveling with my dad on business. I got lost. Or I thought I did. A group vorcha deliberately separated me from my dad when we were walking through the crowds. Before I knew it, they kidnapped me and locked me up with others. I didn't know how long I was kept there. It was dark. We didn't know if it had been days or months."

Kasumi looked to Brandon and they both thought the same thing: slavers.

"How old are you, anyway?" he asked.

"Six."

Brandon leaned over to Kasumi, "What does that mean in Earth years?"

"Uh, late teens."

"Gotcha," and turned his attention back to Jaelen, "We're gonna get you back to your dad. Can you contact him?"

"No. They took my omni-tool and everything else."

"What can you tell us about the kidnappers?"

Repeated knocks at the door stopped the conversation. No one said anything. More knocks, a little more forceful, hit the door. Brandon motioned Jaelen to stay put. One look at Kasumi and she cloaked instantly. Turning his attention for the new guests, he cracked his neck and slid the door open. One human stood with two vorcha behind him. There was nothing about the vorcha that stood out, but the human in charge did. A very expensive suit jacket covered his torso, but underneath it was a simple shirt. The pants were in much the same vein. Proper attire, but with combat boots. The suit wasn't new either. It had some mileage from someone who paraded around, but also got his hands dirty. A stray lock of his slicked back, dirty blond hair was pushed behind his ear. Green eyes met Brandon's brown ones.

"Something I can help you with?" Brandon asked in his Solomon Gunn voice.

"My name is Gavitt Bessler. One of my," the man cleared his throat, "Now former clients said a girl entered this motel. The receptionist said the person who matched her description was here. I simply want her back."

"I wasn't aware she belonged to anyone."

"Cut wisecracks. Hand over now!" One of the vorcha yelled from behind.

Bessler immediately smacked the vorcha upside the head.

"What did I tell you about talking?"

The vorcha shook off the hit and clamped its jaw.

"Better," he said before returning his attention to Brandon, "I'll admit, that prick had what was coming to him and I already voided his order. However, she is my property and I have a bill of sale to prove it."

He handed Brandon a datapad. It was an official document, for Omega anyway, and was verified.

"If that won't do, then we can take it up with someone higher. I prefer to avoid any more physical altercations."

Brandon's stone face look hid the volcano of hate that was building over the slaver. Unfortunately, there was no good way out of this situation. He gave the pad back and stepped back from the door, leaving them a clear space to enter. Mentally, he was extremely reluctant, but there was a smart move and a reckless move. He had to play it smart. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"You have caused me quite a bit of trouble over these past few weeks," Bessler said to the girl.

She didn't even look him in the eyes.

"Don't worry. My mother told me to never slap a girl. No matter what she does," then he handed her over to the vorcha.

She buckled when he slammed a fist into her stomach. All the breath left her lungs as she fell into him. It was so deliberate so there wouldn't be any marks.

"Take her back. Whatever you do, don't damage the merchandise. Permanently anyway."

The vorcha smiled with all its teeth and took the girl away. Bessler took out a credit chit and handed it to Brandon, "Just a little something for you troubles."

He glanced at the chit, then back to the man. With the best forced smile he could manage, he took the credits, "Thank you, Mr. Bessler."

"Not a problem. I didn't get your name?"

'Cause I didn't give it to you' was what Brandon wanted to say, "Solomon Gunn."

"Really?" Bessler said with an air of interest, "Feel free to come by sometime."

"I might have to. You might have a new buyer for that salarian."

Bessler looked at him curiously, but then smiled, "Then tomorrow at noon."

The door shut behind him. Kasumi uncloaked as soon as it did.

"Can I kill him?" Brandon asked.

"Not yet," she said simply, "Not until we know who we're dealing with."

* * *

Brandon was in full Solomon Gunn mode while Kasumi walked beside him, uncloaked. She couldn't help but notice how tight his jaw and movements were, "Enhance your calm. Last I recall you don't have a great history with slavers."

"Don't remind me. And for the record, I really don't like your part in this plan."

"Every thief knows the best way to scout a place you want to rob is as a customer. Remember how I set myself as a buyer's rep to get a special tour of that vessel?"

"To save the child prodigy. I remember."

"It's all the same. Who gets to see the vault at the local bank? The rich guy with something to protect. Who gets to inspect the merchandise?"

"The investors wanting a good deal. My main concern is we're both going to be exposed. Easy targets and easy to ambush. Not to mention probably outnumbered."

"Sounds like Shepard and the old days," she said trying to get a laugh or, at the very least, a chuckle. When it didn't get either, she tried to reassure him, "I didn't always have a partner on jobs like these. I can watch my back. You watch yours."

They approached the entrance just as two vorcha harshly tossed a very familiar salarian onto the street. Only this time he was heavily bruised.

"Leave here, lizard boy. See you again, and me pop your frog legs," the guards laughed as the salarian struggled to his feet.

"You're gonna give me back my daughter! I know she's in there!"

It was the same one from the clinic and it had to be Jaelen's father.

"We can't tell him," Kasumi said, as if reading Brandon's mind, "We need to stay in character or they'll get suspicious of us helping him."

He didn't like it, but he knew she was right. The duo paid no mind to the salarian as they passed.

"Excuse me," Kasumi said condescendingly.

"Don't talk to me, human slime. Just like the rest of them," he muttered as he hobbled away.

It was a stark feeling of bitterness going through the both of them as they approached the entrance.

"Business?" the vorcha asked.

"Yes. We're here to see Bessler. Tell him Solomon Gunn asked for him."

The guards looked at each other and then opened the gate. Kasumi made sure to activate the logging system on her omni-tool to track their steps. If all went well, they would map out the layout as they explored the base. The guards followed as they encountered another set. This time humans. They were rough around the edges with scars and scrapes despite their clean workman's uniforms.

"So, what can I do for you?" one of them asked.

"I'm interested in a making deal," Brandon said.

The other man encroached into Kasumi's space and looked her up from toe to chest. Then chest to hood.

"Don't get many 'exotics' here. You make that suit look good," he caressed the side of her shoulder and moved down, "Though I'd much rather see you take it off-"

She twisted his wrist which brought the guard down where Kasumi planted a hard knee into his nose. The vorcha drew their guns, but not as fast as Brandon drew his. The other human froze by Kasumi's Predator, using the twisted guard's arm to balance her aim and continue pressure if she had to break it.

Brandon couldn't help but chuckle, "I wouldn't mess with my girl."

"Why you little-"

"Knock it off Garret," laughed a loud voice, "Maybe you had that coming."

Bessler came down the hallway with a cigar in his hand; clearly an Earth export. He gestured to his men to stand down. Brandon did the same, followed by Kasumi. As the guard silently cursed while clutching his nose, Brandon saw a marking on his wrist. It was a simple tattoo of the number ten, encased by a circle in dark red.

"Son of a bitch," he said quietly, his Gunn persona falling briefly.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, Mr. Gunn. Your reputation, the little I've heard, precedes you."

Brandon returned quickly back as Gunn, "Glad to be appreciated."

"Though, if you don't mind, would you please hand over your weapons? Security reasons. You understand."

Being unarmed in the middle of a gang's base was something Brandon didn't want to do, but he had to create some faith. He looked back at Kasumi and raised a finger so she'd stay where she was.

"I do understand. Though, she keeps hers. I'll gladly give you mine."

"While I think she is dangerous enough without one, agreed."

Brandon withdrew his pistols and instead of giving them to the guard, he handed them to Bessler.

"Now we can be friends."

Bessler looked at the hardware with an appraising eye, "Very nice. Let's take a walk."

They followed with his guards in tow.

"Forgive my guard for his quite brash conclusion," he directed towards Kasumi, "You are Mr. Gunn's partner?"

"Miss Perkins, at your service, but mostly Mr. Gunn's. Consider me a second pair of eyes."

"I can respect another opinion, though it puts my sales tactics to a disadvantage," he joked, "So you're interested in the salarian? Even after all the trouble she just caused?"

"Consider us as investors," Brandon cut in, "I'm sure you have quite a number of benefactors both local and abroad. Wouldn't be a bad idea to have a hand in the power on this station."

"And it wouldn't be bad having a powerful ally like yourself."

"I don't let a good opportunity pass me by. As for the salarian, I could use a friendly face for some of my fronts, but consider it more as a gesture of friendship. You have a pesky problem and I'm willing to remove it for you. All parties win and no clean up."

Bessler just laughed.

They got their first glimpse of the gang and their operations in the shipping dock. It was solely composed of humans. They were running the cranes and packing certain boxes. There were a few aliens that were being watched while they loaded the transport ships with cargo. Exhaustion plagued their faces while quite a handful of vorcha surveyed them. Not surprising. Pay them enough and it doesn't matter who they work for. Some were like dogs if given enough treats. It didn't take much for the Collectors to buy them.

"This is where we house most of our 'livestock'," Bessler said with a chuckle when they entered the next room, "We keep them close to our ships so it's easier for exporting and importing. Less chance for them to scatter. We have turian, batarian, salarian, even some drell. Those are hard to find. No quarians. I don't have the facilities for them. They die too quick."

It took a lot of self-restraint to not betray the calm demeanor Brandon tried to exude. It's one thing hearing about it, it's another to read about it, but it's a whole different thing to see it with eyes that had never looked upon it before. There had to have been four or five dozen slaves. The cells were segregated by gender and were so primitive that they were using metal bars to keep them in. Each one had its fill of hopelessness and broken spirits. Two salarians were held in each other's arms. A turian was collapsed against the wall, head in his hands. The worst was a batarian that just looked demoralized, nothing but despair was reflected from his eyes, completely hopeless in the reality he succumbed to.

"Is it a good business? As slavers? Do you price by the head or do you give a group rate discount?" Brandon tried to sound humorous, though he had to remind himself to keep the disdain out from his tone.

"Funny. I'll say we aren't short of inventory," Bessler boasted.

"Are they well feed?" Asked Kasumi.

"This isn't a five star hotel. These are slaves."

"I'll reiterate, are you starving them? If someone planned to purchase, I don't think selling stock malnourished and sickly would be profitable," the words sounded like ash coming out of her mouth. It was to sound professional, but had to have been from what she was seeing.

"I apologize. I mistook your point. They get two meals a day and as far as I know, not a single one has anything more than a cold. If it was more then they wouldn't be here. Perhaps you know as many do on Omega, lives are cheap."

"You've been misinformed," Brandon, Mr. Gunn, stated clearly, "I don't buy or sell lives."

"Too bad. It's one of Omega's leading commodities. Prices are good here, especially if they are able to accommodate 'special talents'. Indentured servitude is such a waste of time, money and red tape. Here, there's no bullshit about what you're doing. My only rule is no humans."

"No?" Questioned Kasumi.

"Look, those four eyed freaks will spend all day to sack a human colony for just a minimal profit. Personally, I'd hit them all back the same way. We've been suckered ever since we entered this galaxy, so I say; do unto others as they've done to us."

"So where do you get your shipments?" She asked.

"We may be a small operation, but we are ever expanding. Don't think of us as solely slavers, Miss Perkins. It's only a portion of our foothold. We do salvage. Some shipping here and there. We are quite diverse."

There was so much irony in the use of that word.

"After Purgatory burned up, there was high demand for labor. My outfits take from the outer colonies. Vessel raids and whatnot. Some of are more educated than others. They come from the 'nearest populated area'," he emphasized.

Brandon did a double blink, "You're kidnapping citizens of Omega?"

"Kidnapping? That doesn't exist around here. It's called maximizing profit."

"That's a dangerous game to play against Aria."

Bessler stopped the tour and addressed Gunn directly, "You been to Afterlife lately? You notice something odd about Omega?"

"The liquor there has always been watered down," he said in monotone.

"Funny. But Aria has been non-existent these days. She is running around like a mad woman. Word I heard is some guy killed her daughter. I say good for him. Us humans need to hit back at these self-serving aliens. If we had half the brains, we'd have taken control of the Citadel when those geth attacked. They threw us to the curb and we shoulda let'em burn."

"Can't say things wouldn't have been easier."

"Exactly. So, fuck the blue bitch of Omega."

It got very quiet after Bessler's little outburst. In that moment, both Brandon and Kasumi confirmed what they were dealing with.

"Good to see the Earth values still strong this far out in space," Brandon raised his hand and they shook. On the underside of one of Bessler's wrist was the same tattoo. Brandon's grip became marginally tighter, "Give me a day to consult with my colleague. We'll be in touch soon."

"Sounds good. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to see Solomon Gunn in a crappy motel on Omega," Bessler asked, though the accusation in it was strong.

"Being flashy isn't always advisable. I don't like to attract attention. A week in a lowly motel one night could lead to a five-star hotel on Illium on another," he said confidently.

"You're careful. I can respect that. I could offer you one of the suites I just acquired. No charge."

Brandon tilted his head and crossed his arms, "The real estate market on Omega is hard to break into. I assume if the kidnapped citizen's rent doesn't get paid, they lose their homes, and you are there to pick it up?"

"Right on the money. We buy apartments and tenements under false names and identities. Sometimes dead ones to make them more legitimate. We resell them at an inflated price or supply them for our crew. More control for us."

Brandon appeared to consider the offer to further grease the wheels, "We'll see if we make the deal. My guns?"

Bessler wasn't even hesitant about not giving them back, "I might keep these as a security deposit until you return with your decision. That won't be a problem, will it?"

Those wheels came grinding to a halt. The smugness in his tone pushed the already strained patience and composure Brandon had left. The lack of reaction even caught Kasumi's attention, but before she could hold him back, Brandon encroached extremely close to Bessler. At that point, it was indifferent if it was Gunn or Brandon speaking. It was clear and concise, but the tone was a barely controlled fury.

"I expect them back tomorrow. No scratches. Not fired. And if they somehow disappear from your possession…I will skin you alive."

The look in Bessler's eyes changed. The strong, arrogant facade dropped and real fear came to the surface. The look of a would-be thug who realized they had started something with a threat beyond what they expected, yet still trying not to waiver under his glare.

"You have my word," he said after a brief silence.

They were swiftly escorted out by the guards. After they'd left the base, they took separate ways back to the motel to source out any tails. It was less about the gang and more about anyone else watching; be it rival gangs or higher trouble. It was no surprise Kasumi was already in the motel room. Before she could say anything, Brandon slammed the door, "That's a gang I never thought I'd see in space. What the fuck are the tenth street reds doing here?"

This time it was Kasumi who looked at him a little stunned, "You know them?"

"Just from personal research. They're a low-level gang. Earth based, but there were rumors a few years ago that they were being backed substantially. Outsourcing into the traverse. Expanding operations. Another group of human bigots."

"And what causes you to research an obscure gang like that?"

Brandon fixed himself a glass of water and drank the whole thing in one go.

"Back on the SR-1, the ground team came back after an incident on the Citadel. It involved Shepard and some guy named Finch. Can't confirm nor deny anything. Officially, there is no proof or records. Unofficially… well… she shot him point blank in a crowded bar, so I'm told. I'm sure it wasn't because he was finger snapping to the wrong show tune."

"Interesting. Even I didn't come across that in Shepard's profile. No police records. No rap sheet."

"I guess some things can be hidden extremely well."

"Or some things just don't want to be found," Kasumi countered.

* * *

The next morning was pretty tense. Brandon hadn't gotten much rest. His rage kept festering the more he thought about the people he was dealing with. This entire situation had his emotions running hot.

"Brandon!" Kasumi called.

"Huh?" He said after being jogged back to reality.

"You listening?"

"Yeah. Continue."

Kasumi brought up a schematic on her omni-tool displaying of the floor plan from yesterday's recon.

"What we talked about last night, I'll hack the computer to control the docking bay's pressure doors. It'll alter the hatches to let them stay closed while keeping the computer fooled that they are open. It'll keep most of the gang locked down for us to incapacitate any stragglers."

"All the while I occupy Bessler in his office with the deal. You'll put any guards to sleep as necessary."

"Exactly," as Kasumi wiped a few screens, "After we secured the area, we release the cell gates and escort the people out of the base as quick as possible. Nice and clean."

"Making it sound so easy."

"Keep a level head in there, okay? We are going to get those people out, but we are gonna do it right. You hear me?"

He breathed out a long sigh and nodded. Had to play it cool. This time when they approached the base, Kasumi was cloaked and Brandon went in seemingly alone. After the usual guard greetings, he finally made it to Bessler's office.

"Just you today?" He asked.

"This time I'm coming in to make a decision," Brandon proclaimed confidently, "Only need person for that."

"And what will the answer be?"

The eagerness on the slaver was so apparent.

"A very lucrative partnership," Brandon stated.

"Excellent. How bout a round of drinks to seal the deal?"

"Sounds good. Though, I'll want my deposit back."

"Of course."

Bessler opened his drawer, withdrew _Arondight_ and _Excalibur_, and put them on his desk, "It was a gesture of faith."

"I'm sure-"

The door swung open with a large smack. Entered was a vorcha dragging in a salarian.

"Me catch lizard boy sneaking through back entrance," he said before shoving him to the ground, "Thought me bring him alive to you first."

It was Jaelen's father and he was in bad shape. His bruises from yesterday had opened up and new ones looked more severe on his smaller frame. Bessler sighed in frustration and came from behind his desk. He kneeled over the salarian, but never went to his level.

"You got spirit, I'll give ya that, you green blooded freak," he said calmly, quietly, but then kicked him in the face.

He tried to get up, but Brandon was the first to intervene. It involved giving the salarian a seemingly hard punch to the abdomen, but instead, Brandon jerked his arm rather than actually impact him. With everyone ready to beat him to death, Brandon had to look like he wanted to do the same to try to keep him from further harm.

"Stay down," he tried to whisper while he held him back, "Keep your arms tucked in to protect your chest and face."

He saw the salarian look at him oddly.

"Do it or you'll get killed."

The salarian nodded, but looked over Brandon's shoulder at something. He went to the ground as he was told when Brandon dropped him.

"Good to see the Gunn isn't afraid to get his hands dirty," boasted Bessler before he kicked at the father's torso.

His arms took most of the blow this time. He coughed raggedly and tried to climb to his feet, using the desk as a crutch. Bessler laughed at the pathetic attempt. Brandon was about to go in for a fake kick, maybe swipe his feet to get him to stay down, but what the salarian did in was grab _Arondight_ off of the desk.

"Back!"

The heavy pistol shook in his hand as he launched to his feet, but that did not negate the fact of him pointing a loaded gun at everyone.

"I said back!" He declared to everyone, including Brandon, "You are going to give me my daughter! Now!"

Brandon kept his hands open and in view. Bessler did much the same. The vorcha looked ready to pounce, but Brandon gestured him back.

"Why don't ya give the dad his kid, Bessler? This really worth all the trouble?"

Bessler pondered it for a moment and then seemed to give in, "Guess you're right. Cutting my losses isn't a bad proposition."

"Do it," said the salarian.

The slaver slowly activated his omni-tool, under the barrel of the pistol, and ordered Garret to bring in the girl. A few moments later, the human guard came in holding Jaelen by her shoulders.

"Shut the door behind you," her father said.

Garret did as he was told and moved the girl to the other end of the room.

"Dad?"

"Don't worry, Jaelen. We're going home," he said with a small smile. Unfortunately, it took his focus off Bessler, who grabbed the _Excalibur_ off the desk.

"No!" But Brandon's shout was muffled by the gunshot, staggering the salarian into the wall. He didn't even have a chance to raise the pistol before Bessler fired three more times. The salarians legs gave out; streaking green blood down with him.

"Dad!"

Jaelen tried to run, but Garret held her in place as she struggled. Her dad clung to life as his breathes became pained while blood dripped from his mouth.

"Great. His frickin' dirty blood is all over my wall," Bessler said, more upset with his décor than anything else.

"Sorry, Gunn. Looks like your pistol is gonna need a clean. Least this one didn't get tainted," Bessler said heartily as he tossed it over. _Excalibur_ landed in his hands; the barrel was still warm.

"Come on, Sol. Let me get you a drink. We can forget about this crap," Bessler said as he walked to his mini-bar, "I can have my crew clean this mess up."

Jaelen's cries were like deafening screeches to Brandon's morals. Her father was fighting to stay alive; still weakly holding _Arondight_ in his hand... his eyes met his. The desperation evident, but his strength of will paramount, even as he bled to death. In a blink, Brandon's eyes stared hard at Bessler while he poured the drink. As if he could feel it, the slaver turned around. The glare, the same one from before froze him in his tracks. Something had changed and everything in the room hung in a strange limbo. The body guards looked puzzled if not worried. The salarian's breathing grew fainter, while her daughter sobbed. Brandon and Bessler were locked in a trance of unspoken intent. And the lingering question suspended over them, when-

Bessler moved towards his desk only to feel his hand explode in shards of glass and severed fingers. The barrel of _Excalibur_ was moved to Garret; his eyes were already wide and there was no time to grab his Executor pistol before a hole coursed through his head. The bodyguard at the door was the only one to raise his shotgun before feeling one hit his leg, the pain lurching the vorcha backwards firing a blast into the ceiling, continued by two, three shots into his chest. The vorcha finally collapsed, but Brandon calmly walked to his body and placed a round point blank through the head; ending it as quickly as it started.

It became eerily quiet. The small space made the gunshots reverberate in Brandon's ears, but time spent in firefights made them only a minor annoyance. The vorcha wouldn't regenerate from beyond the grave. What should have been Bessler was an empty space, apart from severed fingers, broken glass, and a trail of blood out a secret back door. Across the room, the crying had stopped. Jaelen was in so much shock no sounds were leaving her throat. She was curled into a ball in the corner, glancing at the bleeding corpse of her captor. Finally she looked at Brandon as if to know if it was over.

"BAH!"

Brandon quickly turned towards the door to see another vorcha enter with a flamethrower.

"You die now-!"

The guard's chest exploded repeatedly as the salarian fired _Arondight_ continuously until the thermal clip popped. Even as the peppered vorcha was left lifeless in the hallway, the salarian kept the empty gun aimed at it until his arm fell with a long sigh.

"Dad?"

Jaelen ran over to him and cupped his face. His head hung low, but his eyes looked to her.

"Promise… me… you're… okay."

"I am, dad. I'm okay."

A small smile stretched on his face while he reached around her in a weak hug. That expression stayed when his eyes closed forever. Jaelen knew it and broke down in her dad's arms. She clutched him, not caring about the blood.

"Brandon, wha-"

Kasumi's words stopped when she saw the bloodbath in the office. The scene was gruesome, but what stunned her most was when she stared at him. She'd seen him pretend to be heartless and ruthless as Gunn, but this wasn't that. His face was cold and neutral. The underlying fear was that this emotionless state was completely genuine. As if by shame or completely mechanical, Brandon left the office. He didn't so much as make eye contact when he passed her.

The next hour was spent getting the civilians out from their cells and figuring out a way to get some of them home. Some had family to call. Others didn't. One of the former slaves had taken the initiative with that process. The next matter was dealing with the leftover tenth street reds. The ones locked in the shipping bay were given two options: get in the shuttles and go back to Earth. The other option was to experience decompression or a space vacuum. They chose the shuttles. Kasumi personally helped Jaelen contact her mother on Sur'Kesh. She'd be going home and they'd arranged for her dad to be brought back with them. When it was all said and done, Kasumi found Brandon sitting on the curb by himself; idly looking at _Arondight_ and the smudges of green where the salarian's fingers had been.

"I broke the plan. I'm sorry," he said, almost detached from his own words.

That wasn't what she wanted to hear. She sat beside him and waited.

For the first time, he let his conscience talk, "I could have saved him."

"We can't save everyone. It's not our job-"

"It used to be! How the hell are we supposed to fight the Reapers when we are still fighting each other!?"

There was nothing she could say to that. There was nothing either of them could say.

"What about Bessler?" He asked.

"I looked all over. He wasn't with his crew."

"A thug watches out for their own hide," he said before activating him omni-tool.

"What are you doing?"

"He couldn't have gotten far. So I'm calling in a favor."

* * *

**A few moments later...**

Bessler was cursing as he kept pumping medigel into his system for his wrapped hand, or rather what was left of it. His movements became more erratic as he used his still working hand to fuel his private shuttle in his personal docking bay.

While he was doing this, a large knock smacked on the bay door which paused his actions. Silence. Another hard knock that seemed louder than the last. Silence. The third knock bent and smashed the door off the wall and sent it careening towards the lone human. Bessler was so stunned, he could only watch it just pass his body and tear into his ship. Sweat dripped off his chin with chattering teeth as he looked towards the new doorway. The outside light shone like a beam of white eezo as the silhouettes of three krogan entered. The one foremost of the group had a face that revealed centuries of blood, war, and violence. He was definitely the oldest as he walked with the aura of a wise judge. The two on either side were dressed in full combat armor. The poker player held his Claymore in one hand. The other had no firearms, but grasped a giant hammer.

"Get this scum on his knees," the old, yet strong voice boomed.

The poker player obliged without the least bit of compassion. A single shot blasted and not quite popped Bessler's knee, but severed it. He was to the floor, writhing in pain, while blood pooled around him.

"I am the Patriarch," the elder spoke, "You have violated this station with your operations, refused to pay tribute to Aria, kidnapped her citizens to sell them for profit, and undermined her absolute authority."

The old krogan leaned over the clearly frightened human, "Your privileges on this station have been, by thine own hand, **revoked**."

He glanced to the krogan at his side before he walked away. The poker player stomped over to the human and placed a stern foot on the human's other leg. Half to keep him from moving. The other half to inflict pain as he crushed his bones. Bessler couldn't say anything that wasn't an anguished cry. A thud shook the ground feet as a giant hammer indented the metal. The other krogan glared at the wretched scum with a low growl. Bessler frantically pulled, but there was no escape for him. In an almost elegant spiral, the krogan brought the hammer down. There was some consolidation for Bessler, the pain wouldn't last long after his skull was squashed like a hapless fly.

* * *

Much thanks to Maxaro for the beta read. Sorry this took forever, but this went through a lot of incarnations, rewriting, and cutting. Omega can seem like the Vegas of the traverse, but there seemed to be a much darker side we never get to see. The side Garrus probably saw.


	9. Ch9: A Certain Point of View

**ONE MONTH BEFORE THE REAPERS**

The sky was gray. Small booms of thunder echoed closer together, warning the populace that the storm grew nearer. Kasumi heard none of it. She walked alone, comforted only by her invisible blanket. There was no urgency or gaiety in her movements. It was just an aimless stride that brought her to the edge of a small cliff. It overlooked the landscape that had been covered by the shadows of dark clouds. On a normal day it would have been an awe-inspiring lush of green, but today it echoed the thief's despair. She knelt on the ground and piled a collection of stones. Some smooth. Others jagged. By themselves they weren't much until a miniature pyramid was formed. Not too big, but just enough to see. A sad smile shown, knowing he'd appreciate the gesture. It took effort to stand, yet her posture reflected the hollowness consuming her core. Raindrops started to fall on her hood and a few graced the petals of the most perfect red rose she could find. Another bass of thunder erupted after a flash of lightning. It opened the heavens and sheets of droplets cascaded to the earth. The water shorted off her cloak, but she had no care to hide anymore. The pouring rain flowed with all her tears as the hurt lover laid the rose on the stones.

"I'm so sorry."

* * *

**Four days earlier…**

"Deposit box AA23. Password: Silence is Golden. Enjoy our little secret, Mr. White."

She watched from the rafters as the 'businessman' and his two bodyguards approached the locker and retrieved their new possession. He touched his omni-tool and then she felt her own buzz. The other half of the payment transferred to her 'corporate' account, and she grinned in delight. It felt wondrous to be back to doing what she loved. Even on a small job like this, she savored the adrenaline rush and the thrill of success. The little things in life.

The thief strolled across the platforms, unbeknownst to all the people below, and took a shortcut down the ventilation shaft. She was always careful with picking her routes. When waltzing quickly to the next job, a quick feel of the walls were a telltale sign. Cold or cool was a good clue it was usable. Air filtration vents were less hazardous than a boiler duct which might get super-hot for her liking. Omega may be dirty and grimy, but was a perfect place for her. Lots of vents. Lots of shadows. So many passageways to get around. Only the Citadel could compare. Much cleaner, but more risk with C-Sec surveillance. Nothing she couldn't deal with. She could stay hidden from everyone minus a passing Keeper. Those guys she never minded. Sometimes she'd see them watching her and she'd put her finger to her lips. They shared her little secrets before returning to their tasks. Unfortunately, the cockroaches on Omega didn't have quite the same appeal.

She slid out of her metal tunnel and walked casually along the ceiling beams. The _Razgriz_ was moved from dry storage to the public docking bay, much to the dismay of the volus manager. The impromptu storage space for an indefinite stay made the price more than double, and just so happened to include an outrageous handling fee. The thief took enjoyment that the revolving payments were from a fake credit account. There's stealing, but then there's graveyard robbery.

After passing lines of ships, hers came into view. Even from afar, she noticed Brandon outside working. Kasumi tapped her lips. Something was different about it, so she retrieved her binoculars. The rear turret was supposed to be before the fuselage met the thrusters. Instead, a flat sphere occupied the space. Through the two circles, she watched blue to white light flash continuously across Brandon's black welding mask. Only the rectangular pane of glass allowed him to stretch the arc torch across the conjoining metal plates. The sparks stopped and the blue heat cooled to a warm orange. He lifted up his mask to observe his handiwork and ensure the welds were vacuum sealed. Kasumi could only wonder what toys he had purchased. Apparently satisfied, Brandon removed his mask and wiped the sweat from his brow. Kasumi chuckled when he left a few traces of grease across his forehead. Next, he removed his welding jacket to reveal a sleeveless shirt. Kasumi zoomed in a bit closer and felt so fiendish in her desire for a little voyeur. He started lifting his heavy tools and his body tightened. It made her recall many other moments when his body did that. Underneath that thin garment were muscles that she yearned to have against her skin every night. His hair was all messy, but she loved to run her fingers through it. Sweat layered his toned arms and broad shoulders, the same ones she'd grab every time they made love. Her face flushed red and she was thankful no soul would see her. Though now, watching wasn't enough anymore.

She quickly pocketed her binoculars, turned on her cloak, and swooped down a power line pipe. With her feet now on the ground, she skirted effortlessly through the crowds with not a single onlooker turning her way. The world moved around her while she forged her path. Staying away from populated areas was one way of avoiding unwanted accidents, but that separated a good thief from a great thief. A person will continue walking unless they saw something in their way. They'll turn when they think it's clear. In those spots were her hiding places, but also where she could easily be caught. Years of practice honed her skills to avoid getting bumped into or tripped over. She watched everyone else and her body adjusted fluidly. Of course, which people was also something to choose wisely. A courier follows a routine nearly every day. Extremely predictable. Tourists like to stop randomly in the middle of a street. Too unpredictable. In truth, anyone who could be indecisive could be a possible whistle blower. One wrong turn and she's on the floor trying to avoid getting stepped on by passersby. The same kind of caution went to armed guards. They could get jumpy with their trigger fingers. Bad if she was in front of them. Good if she needed a distraction. Amazing what a light tap on a nervous guard's shoulder will do.

While those were always fun and amusing, her missions with Shepard tested her skills and sharpened them in a more serious manner. It wasn't only about speed. She needed to carve a safe path in an open battlefield. While similar in theory to a street of civilians, it was plagued with obstacles much more lethal. Tripping over someone's foot was different than accidentally cutting across someone's line of fire. That accounted for both friendlies and enemies. It wasn't her favorite thing to do, but she became quite proficient at it. She learned where to run, what angle to strike to an unsuspecting foe, and how to find her way back to cover. It was an experience, but she'll take navigating people over bullets any day.

These were the many reasons she didn't 'find' Brandon a cloaking suit. It wasn't something he could just pick up and learn in a short time. Luckily, he never asked. It wasn't really his style. He preferred acting in the field via disguises. It was old fashioned, but efficient. Yes, it did put more risk on him, but his part was always small in the grand scheme of the plan. Over the past months, he'd certainly proved could handle playing in the field. Right now, she wanted to play with him in a different way.

Kasumi made her way through the vendors, but couldn't help from snatching a small bottle of water. So small a crime she couldn't resist. She meandered through the ships until she was at the stern of her own. While Brandon lowered the welder to the wing vector, the thief climbed up the side. He'd gotten very good at spotting her, so she made her steps slow and small. The shadowless figure crept across the top of the fuselage before pausing over the entrance hatch. Brandon was still none the wiser as he stored the equipment and came out to clean up the rest. She took her chance and slithered herself inside. Neat and quiet like any job. The water was placed conveniently on the counter before she retreated to the library. Her cloak deactivated and she reached for a random book from the shelf. Now it was a matter of waiting.

Heavy boots clunked on the floor and then stopped abruptly. She grinned and walked nonchalantly into the hallway, pretending to read. When she stared up, Brandon was looking curiously at the bottle of water in his hand, and then saw her.

"It's almost as if you read my mind," he said with a hint of playful suspicion.

Kasumi smiled innocently, "I don't know what you mean. Now, what have you been fooling around with?"

A wash of almost childish enthusiasm enveloped his face and he was quick to point to the new welds and wires in the ceiling.

"I found one of the ship dealers parting out an older Kowloon freighter. He was practically giving parts away. No one took the communications hub, so I jumped on it. Had to give up the rear turret or the beast wouldn't fit, but I bargained to let them take it as part exchange. It needs to be rewired with a few mods, but I can pump this guy's signal to more than quadruple our original radio range. Can even retrofit the shortwave radio's output!"

She still was marveled at how something so small could make him so happy. He could get so focused on the smallest thing from this ship. Every part of it had a bit of him within it in some way. It was his home and, admittedly, she was happy it had become as much her home as it was his, "You are so cute when you get all excited."

"I try," he said as he took a swig from the water bottle, much to Kasumi's delight, "It's so nice to have the _Razgriz_ out from storage."

"We haven't had any big trouble for months, so I think it's safe to say we can start working again. Besides, you've been so mopey lately."

"_I've_ been mopey? You've been groaning about how many of your novels you could have read while we had the month off."

Kasumi hummed and glided off one of her gloves. It was placed with her book to the side and she let her fingers tap the wall of the ship. It caught her boyfriend's attention perfectly. Each slow step closer brought them perilously close. She took the bottle, poured a small amount on her hand, and wiped it along his forehead. His skin was burning and the cool water brought out a pleasant sigh. What made Kasumi's heart flutter most was that he never moved. She knew he trusted her no matter she did. He had complete faith in her, if it was breaking into a bank or just wiping some grease off his skin.

"Thanks."

Her thumb brushed the strands of his hair to the side and ran down his cheek. Before she could pull away, rough fingers intertwined with hers.

"Now your hand's all dirty," he said.

"So?"

"How about a quick shower and we can see how much dirtier we can get?"

"I'll be waiting for you in the bedroom..." Kasumi said in a sultry voice.

Brandon never stopped looking at her with those brown eyes until he closed the bathroom door. She could feel the giddiness pooling in her stomach as she made her way to the bedroom. The door was kept shut so she could see his face of surprise when he walked in. Barely were the latches connecting her hood undone before her omni-tool buzzed. Strange, since she hadn't had any jobs scheduled. She checked it and it wasn't a message, nor was it one of her contacts. Kasumi realized it was a calendar reminder. In an instant, all the joy disappeared from her face. Her legs decided to stop working and her whole body took refuge on the edge of the bed. Warm feelings turned cold and spread into her fingertips. Her lips quivered slightly as she fought the emotions bubbling to the surface. Then the thought, the urge, was more than she could bear. She took a small breath in a vain attempt to compose herself before activating her graybox.

_The outside world vanished from her eyes. In its place was a familiar vessel. The air pounded on the uninsulated walls. The pod was conveniently missing due to 'repairs' back on Illium and what was left was the sealed tunnel. Until activating the override. She had planned for everything._

_"I'm beginning to wonder if this was a good idea," a voice said._

_Hearing that voice… she had almost forgotten the smokiness of his tone. In a desperate turn, her eyes finally found him. There he was, like he had never left her side. A slight stubble, yet a neatly trimmed goatee. His brown eyes met hers and a familiar sensation spread threw her heart, as potent as the first time the met. Keiji Okuda. Her Keiji. The only thing different, and very humorous for her to see, was a very slight look of nervousness on his face._

_"It's perfect. Now don't spoil it," Kasumi quipped playfully._

_He sighed, more from her mood than the situation._

_"All right. I hope this works."_

_She touched his lips… she had almost forgotten that feeling. His taste when her tongue rang along his. The very slight grazing of his beard against her skin._

_"Trust me," she said._

_He never had to say it. His eyes spoke it in volumes._

_The door whooshed open giving view to the Bekenstein skyline. They were miles in the air, higher than the tallest skyscraper. Then Kasumi jumped. Keiji followed after like she always knew he would. They fell freely from the ship in a steep dive, until their 'wings' unfolded behind them. Gliders really, but she could dream. They were outfitted to their suits and their lift turned them away from gravity's destination. It let the pair soar above the city in a controlled flight. What provided was a scene no one from the ground could see. The sun had just started to set and its golden rays touched the white buildings above. Their colors changed with each passing minute as they glided through the air._

_"It's beautiful," she said dreamily._

_"Yes it is," Keiji said back._

_Too quickly, they neared the target rooftop and lowered for landing. Just before touchdown, the wings released from their suits and opened into parachutes, slowing them down before jettisoning completely. Keiji stumbled on his touchdown. Kasumi, on the other hand, gracefully set her feet down and was already running to the security door._

_"Show off," Keiji teased._

_"What? Can't a girl have a little style?"_

_She had already hacked the lock when she felt his hand on her shoulder, "Sure, but if we're doing our job right, nobody should be watching."_

_"You're watching…" she whispered in his ear and turned back into his arms. The sun had set just behind him, but all she cared about was the light in his eyes. She pressed her lips to him and felt his arms circle her waist. Her heart was beating so fast, probably from the adrenaline, but more from his loving embrace,"…and that's all that matters."_

And the memory stopped. The only memory she made with him. The holographic visor of her graybox deactivated and the world returned. She squeezed her temples, but couldn't force the avalanche back any longer. Quakes rolled through her body and she stopped sniffing back the tears. They rolled freely down her cheek and she needed to cradle her head in her forearms. She never thought she'd lose him. She never thought she'd take their precious time for granted. When she stepped into his graybox, all the classified documents were pushed to the side as his memories… their memories… surrounded her. Keiji saved so many of the times they were together; in their apartment, small dates, when they made love. He cherished every moment like it was the last. She wanted those memories so badly. To relive them again. And in the end, she had to delete it all and say goodbye to him forever. Even after all these months, almost a year later, she still missed her Keiji. She still loved him.

Three knocks managed to cut through her breakdown.

"Kasumi? All cleaned up for you," she heard Brandon say.

Panic replaced her grief and she desperately tried to wipe the tears from her face. She slowed her breaths to normal and opened the door. Never had she been more grateful that her hood covered her eyes. Brandon wouldn't see how red they'd gotten.

"Kasumi…are you alright?"

Her body language was betraying her acting. Not for a stranger to know, but enough for Brandon to suspect.

"Yeah…its…just…umm…"

She fumbled over her words trying to think of an excuse, but Brandon inadvertently beat her to it.

"That time of the month?"

She bit her lip and nodded. It wasn't a verbal lie, but one nonetheless.

Brandon's expression softened and he brushed his lips on her forehead, "It's okay. I still love you."

Despite his affectionate tone, it took so much control not to break when he said that.

* * *

The bass was drumming with the synthesized whine emitting from the speakers. It got people moving on the dance floor in ways that Shepard could only hope to emulate. Kasumi sat at the bar and nursed a whiskey sour that contained an ample amount of whiskey, much more compared to normal Afterlife. The VIP lounge catered to a better class of characters and was at least worth the quality of the drinks.

A point made abundantly clear when a chuckling, and heavily swaying, woman approached the bar, "I hate this place and everyone in it and every night I hate it all over again."

"I know. You only say it every time you come in here," said the bartender, filling her up another round.

The club goer took an eager sip and started scoping out the dancers. Kasumi noticed the patron focused primarily toward scantily clad asari. It reminded her the last time she was in this place. Her time was spent watching Brandon and Shepard from the second floor railing, only to be put on a roller-coaster of anxiety and jealousy when Brandon flirted to a mind-frying Morinth. Of course at the time, she wasn't aware of why she felt those things.

"I think you must be the goddess incarnate," a husky voice purred.

After time spent with Thane, she knew it was a drell before turning towards him. They had a distinct quality to their voice much like turians did. The young man had taken the seat next to her and deliberately opened his coat to show off his athletic physique. His skin gave off a teal hue which was nice to look at, but it was obvious which of his two heads he was thinking with.

"Cute line, but I prefer the blue goddess' with my friend here."

"Hell yeash," her drunk 'friend' exclaimed.

The drell could have taken the easy loss, but inched closer into her space, "But how would ya know if ya haven't tried it? With a body like yours…"

The feeling of a five fingered hand squeezing her thigh would have been acceptable if she was provoking it. This time it earned the drell a hard punch across his cheek, something Kasumi took pleasure knowing he'd never be able to forget it.

"Why you little-"

"Do drell have a different definition of the word 'no'?" said another voice.

The drell turned around to the newcomer behind him, "Back off before you get your ass thrown in the grinder."

"Is that what a hanar did to your face?"

The comment sent the drell to his feet, sloppily knocking over his own drink, "You think I'm scared of some human in a suit?"

"Damn right you are."

The space between them was gone and the drell started to ball a fist.

"Go ahead," the other dared.

"What?"

"I said go ahead. Do it and see what happens."

The drell's resolve started to falter under the other's glare, "Listen-"

"We're past that now, you gonna try and hit me or not? Come on. Fucking lay me out."

The drell was beyond stunned and didn't feel Kasumi's small hand snag the credit chit from his pocket. As soon as she was done, she took a small sip of her drink.

"Didn't think so," he said, soon after her cue, "Beat it."

The drell huffed away and both thieves grinned in unison.

"Thanks for getting rid that idiot," she said to her sharp dressed man, then secretly spoke into her drink, "Direct and intimidating. Nice tactic."

"Only as good as the woman beside me," Brandon mumbled quietly.

He adorned his navy suit he wore on Zhu's Hope. It was a club, so it made sense he should look the part. He just looked naked without his pistols. That was the one con about a place like this: no weapons allowed. Well, at the very least no firearms. The bouncer would have to look awfully close to find her tanto she snuck in. Admittedly, it would have been easier to convince the drell to back off with her pistol in view. It was easy to be reminded why she preferred being invisible.

Brandon ordered himself a drink, so Kasumi gazed around the room. She wasn't a club girl, but the trip was sorely needed. The pounding music and alcohol drowned out her day's woes, and burying herself into work, much like any other profession, was a great distraction. These little shakedowns were good practice and it was an excuse to leave the ship. She would scope out a target, Brandon would make the approach, and then she would extract. Standard two team system. They were always careful to pick ones who weren't Aria's people. She followed the motto like everyone else.

Every night was a party night on Omega, but some were better than others. Tonight brought nothing exceptional and it made her slightly bitter she couldn't even pretend to work. It'd be her kind of luck. The only thing that perked her attention was a pair of turians seated in a corner booth. They were dressed conservatively in nice clothes. Unmarked necks in full view for single ladies. The big draw was their clan markings. They were different than ones she's seen before, but were identical in style to the gangs she'd seen around Omega. The design was simply a red streak with white flaring along the sides. They seemed to keep to themselves, but every once and again a set of eyes would flash her way. Never both at the same time, but it was always directed towards her-

"Those are some terrible knockoffs."

"Huh?" said Kasumi.

"The guy hitting on the asari. Suit looks like it was cut out of tissue paper."

It actually took her a moment to pinpoint the couple in question, "Oh. Yeah. Not a good choice."

Brandon raised his brow, "Kasumi, you alright? You've been… off a bit."

She could spot an embellished ID card to a fake diamond with a quick look. Not noticing a cheap suit was dangerously sloppy. Worse if Brandon was noticing. Her conscience was still being pesky over earlier. No amount of alcohol could cure her heartache over her dead lover. She thought she'd moved on, and then a fresh wave of emotions cut open old wounds. On top of that, she lied about it to Brandon. She'd opened up about her relationship before, but how could she say to him she desperately wanted Keiji back? Now it just made her feel worse. All her life she never had a problem lying. It was natural as breathing. Sure, she might tell a few 'white lies' regarding a little retrieval job…actually a few retrieval jobs. Small gigs. One person jobs. But they were never really lies. He always knew what she was up to. This was a different matter because it was about her and her life. It was one of the few things genuine about her and now she was distorting that. There was only one person she never truly lied to…

She didn't pretend to indulge the rest of her drink in one gulp, "Why don't we call it a night?"

"So soon?"

"Night's a little dead. Can't win them all," she tried to persuade her partner. She was dodging badly. Any other situation she'd scold herself for being so careless.

Brandon drummed his fingers on the bartop. He had to be thinking she was hiding something. Had to. She would if she was him. What she didn't expect was his hand grabbing hers, effectively breaking their cover, "I won't ask you to tell me what's bothering you. But I will say I'll be there to listen if you ever decide you want to…"

She saw the warmth in his eyes that she thought was fleeting from his soul. After the incident with the Tenth Street Reds, it was hard to watch what Omega was doing to him. The chivalrous knight she met on the _Normandy_ was getting bad chinks in his armor. So deep she feared if he'd fully come back from it. If she mentioned Keiji, she thought it would only get worse. Now, a lot of those thoughts were put to rest.

"…but we're not going home," he said before she could respond. Kasumi glanced at his coy little smirk after he stood up, "I'm going to go the bathroom, and then I'll see you at the rendezvous."

Brandon left Kasumi pondering since they hadn't agreed on a location yet. She could only guess what he was up to.

"Those Talons want another round, Eddie," a busty asari server told the bartender.

He sighed and was to quick give her a new bottle. The thief noted it was an aged brandy.

"Looks like someone has expensive taste," she commented idly.

Edwin waved a dismissive hand, "Yeah, its a little game they play. I put it on the bill. They tear up the bill. It's very inconvenient."

Seeing how this was a regular occurrence, she decided to pry since he knew more about them, "Who are the Talons? Never heard of em before."

The bartender spit in distaste, "If you're smarter than you look, you'll keep your distance from 'em. When the big three weakened after Archangel, lotta of small timers took advantage of the power loss. Bunch of newcomers who thought they could carve out a piece outta the leftovers. Most came and went, but the Talons know their place. Bunch of mercs and freelancers, but they're kept in check by their leader Derius. He plays nice with Aria, most of the time, and is smart enough not step on anyone's toes."

Kasumi hummed and gave the pair another look. They were laughing and joking, now with the new bottle, and weren't looking her way anymore. Even after surveying them for a solid few moments, her presence remained nonexistent. She chalked it up to guys wanting a good time and admiring female prospects. It was a bar and, as the drell proved, many were seeking their loin's desires. Her observation was interrupted by a buzz from her omni-tool. Enclosed was a location: the Fish Dog Food Shack. She couldn't help but sigh as to why he picked that specifically. Such a romantic to want to revisit where they had their first ever date. Trying to cheer her up. Unfortunately, it brought no levity to Kasumi… well… maybe a little bit. It wasn't hard for her to be convinced, and after the alcohol, food sounded good.

No time was wasted exiting the club. Brandon would follow a good five to ten minutes after. As usual, they left separately and took their own routes to the rendezvous. She threw a little wink to the bouncer, keeping up appearances as a regular, and turned off the main street. Almost immediately, she felt something slowly press and crawl down her pants pocket. Way too soon if they were scouting people leaving the club. Total amateur she surmised before whipping around to seemingly no one, then tilting her head down to the small figure frozen in place. Her reservations appeared to be right, just a lot smaller and younger than expected. The little crook tried to flee, but was grabbed firmly by the back of his carapace. He struggled to get free but was no match compared to his mark's bigger stature. With the same arm, she twirled the would-be thief around, revealing the expression of fear on his face. The boy's little mandibles fidgeted wildly. No clan markings since he was still too young, but he wasn't malnourished at all. The turian's clothes were worn, but clean. Not dirty or ragged.

Kasumi's own expression remained blank, yet stern. Instead of continuing to tower over the boy, she squatted down to his worried green eyes, "First off, if you're going to pickpocket someone, make sure your mark isn't better than you."

It was humorous to see the turian raise a small browplate at the advice as opposed to a scolding of some kind.

"Now, why's a kid like you stealing?"

There was no answer. The kid was still clearly scared. Kasumi decided to release her hold, giving him an ample opportunity to run away. He still didn't move, so she folded her arms and tapped her chin.

"Have you eaten tonight? I'm starving. I'm going to the Fish Dog Food Shack and wait for my friend. I know they have some dextro options. Want a snack and talk?"

Again, her little companion was speechless. She turned her back and walked to the shack. She deliberately sat at a table with three chairs knowing at least one of them would get filled eventually. Brandon would be at least a few minutes more away, but she knew he'd order the same thing. He'd remember that kind of detail. An order was put in at the kiosk for the meals and a dextro special for the young'un. It wasn't long before she was joined by her tagalong.

"You don't strike me as a duct rat type. Been there. I mean I can see your face. Most are covered with so much dirt."

The boy hung his head shamefully with droopy mandibles. Now Kasumi was starting to feel bad that he felt bad. Three steaming plates of food interrupted the sulking and the thief caught the tiniest glimpse of the turian's eyes widening.

"You don't want to talk that's fine. At the very least eat something."

Kasumi restrained herself from devouring her meal and simply nibbled on a chunk of charred meat. Still, her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. She didn't want to completely start eating until Brandon got here. It should be any minute now.

"So are you going to…tell?" the timid turian finally asked.

"No. I think you learned your lesson. If you don't eat, some other turian will get a free meal."

The boy finally reached for the food in front of him. He was eager, but not in the desperate way a truly hungry person would eat. She was familiar with that. After his first few bites, he slowed his pace and savored each bite thereafter. It was more over the novelty of where and what he was eating. A treat like this wasn't something he was used to, and he had been taught, or experienced enough, to appreciate it.

"You live on this station, I take it? Have family here?"

"Just my mom," he said with a mouthful.

"What does she do?"

The turian wiped his plates from the sauce before continuing, "She works in the scrap yard."

"Not home a lot?"

He rubbed his arm and his mandibles fidgeted, "She tries."

"Not a lot of time to eat dinner together?"

"I do. She… she tells me she isn't hungry."

Kasumi put down her skewer and looked at him closely, "But you don't believe her?"

He shook his head, "I pretend to. But I can see her face. She's so tired."

"So you weren't stealing to get some new omni-tool or something. Were you?"

He shook his head again.

"My mom told me to never take what isn't mine, but I got to help her somehow. She doesn't have markings and people yell at her. I know what she has to do and I'm not helping. I don't want to lose my mom too."

The little turian's talons gripped on the table leaving faint scratches. Kasumi leaned over and titled his little head at her.

"Listen to me. It's alright to care, but you don't have to steal for her to know that. Your mom is one of the toughest people in the galaxy."

"You don't know her," the turian nearly yelped, "How can you know?"

"Because I never had one."

Suddenly the little turian got very quiet.

Of all the days, this was when her emotions couldn't stay hidden, "I never had a family. And in my life, I've lost those I cared about very much. The biggest regret you can have is not appreciating the time you do spend together. So this is how you are going to repay me. Instead of trying to steal, go home, wait for your mom, and give her the biggest hug. Tell her how much you love her. And let her know that you worry. I guarantee she'll feel a lot better and you'll feel a lot better."

The boy, previously timid and worried, stood from his stunned state with a renewed sense of purpose on his face.

"Thank you…?"

"Just a friend. Run along home and be safe."

The turian bolted off and Kasumi smiled knowing someone was going to have a better day. Funny, sometimes talking to a stranger was easier than someone she loved. Then she turned back to the empty chair. And as much as she loved Keiji, she was in love with Brandon just as strongly. She made the decision she'd tell him when he'd get here.

"Where are you?"

The business with the boy shook her sense of time, so she glanced at her omni-tool. A full twenty-three minutes had passed when he should have been here. It was getting increasingly peculiar how long it was taking him. She'd have gotten a message by now if there was a problem or delay. It was enough to warrant a worried look to the left. Then to the right. No Brandon. But she did notice two turians. The same ones she recognized from the club earlier. They were trying to be casual, but it was very obvious that they were shadowing her. More amateurs, but this made her very concerned. It couldn't be a coincidence. She finished her skewer, more to keep up her unknowingness than her now faded appetite, and grabbed a metal tin to load the rest of the food. She left her table with Brandon's meal and walked into the back alley of the restaurant. Sure enough, the turians followed.

"You were working in our territory, sister. The Talons don't take kindly to that."

Should have known they were noticing more than just her figure. Yet, somehow it didn't make sense. They would have had to been watching her before she started pick pocketing to know what she was up to.

"I'm sure if you put up a sign I'd know it was 'Talon mugging only'," she said, keeping up a spirited façade.

"Cute. Now, take out those credit chits."

Kasumi carefully withdrew them.

"Now drop them. Please," his sub-harmonics teased.

She obliged and tossed them on the ground.

The talker's friend retrieved them and nodded, "Better not catch you working on our turf again. Consider this a warning payment."

"That it?" she inquired, even more curious why she was getting off easy.

"You're not who we were concerned with, human. In the future, make sure you chose a better class in partners."

The friend chuckled, "Yeah, by tomorrow they'll have decided whether he committed suicide or died trying to escape."

There was no thought, just reaction. She threw the metal tin like a flying saucer into the furthest friend's face. He dropped the chits and clutched his gushing nose. Before the talker had a chance, Kasumi practically flew across the distance and planted a flying sidekick into the turian's sternum. All the air left his lungs as he slammed on his back.

"You bitc-" the bleeding turian was cut off when she planted a firm back kick into his crotch. It put him down hard.

She walked over the other one and put her heel on his chest, "Where is he?"

"Like I'm telling you-"

Her blade to his throat stopped his mouth, "There's two of you here and I only need one of you alive to tell me. You want that to be you then tell me where you took him **now**!"

The blade pressed further into his skin, a small bead of blue blood rolling down. Her seriousness made the Talon pause.

"Alright! Derius. He's our boss. He took him to the warehouse. In the Kenzo district! Said he'd fit a description and he'd promote us when we bagged him. We saw you stealing chits, so we figured we'd nab a few credits on the side!"

A revelation dawned on her. They weren't watching her. They were watching Brandon. That's why they stopped looking her way when he went to the bathroom.

Kasumi bolted off, leaving the wounded and humiliated Talons in the alley.

"Ugh. That's the second time a girl has kicked our ass..." the talker said.

"And both human ones at that..." his bleeding friend groaned.

Kasumi's cloak sheathed her presence from the rest of Omega during her sprint to the Kenzo district. That's where she needed to be, but it was on the opposite side of the station in the lower levels. Shortcuts were imperative. The marketplace was bustling and she had to plow straight through it. Everyone was too slow and forced her to dodge in an out of people's paths; sometimes knocking a passing pedestrian out of the way. That's how fraught she was. She was ignoring her own rules. No longer was she thinking. She was driving on skill and instinct. Everything else was just irrelevant and unnecessary noise.

A wide berth was given for a female turian pushing a crate of spare parts towards Harrot's Emporium. Some saw it as an annoyance, but Kasumi saw a chunk of uninhabited space. She used the crate as a ramp and launched herself, arms first, over the crowds of people. The thief tucked her head and rolled her body forward, bringing her legs over her head before landing with a roll out. Now out of the markets, she followed the red neon pathway towards Afterlife, the unofficial center of the station and the quickest way to the Talons.

Another immovable line of people blocked the street as they waited to get into Afterlife, at the mercy of the elcor bouncer. Not bothering to stop, her nimble hands pushed up on the elcor's back and she seemingly floated over the blockade. A curious grunt was all that came from the bouncer. However, on the other side, her landing spot was quickly occupied by a parking transit car. Instead of letting it stop her in her tracks, she tucked her elbows and rolled her body over the front windshield. She didn't even look back when her feet were back on the ground.

Stealing the skycar might get her there fast, but would tipoff her approach. Stealth was the key, yet time was running out. The residential areas were too enclosed, so the only options were the more open, dangerous areas of the station. This was why there was no hesitation when she turned toward the safety railing, overlooking the emptiness of Omega, and vaulted over it. Even the most ruthless criminal would have been momentarily stunned if they saw someone willingly plummet to their death. Instead, her fingers wrapped around one of the circular, metal bracings that stretched from the hub of Afterlife. Ever so slightly did her grip loosen to allow her speed to swing her body before she let go and caught the next set of girders underneath her. This continued until both her hands and feet were planted on top of the last set, and then she pushed off with a backflip jump onto the service walkway. They were never guarded and had no locks. It gave her quick access to the elevator shafts and, instead of waiting, the thief grabbed emergency ladder and slid down several levels.

Still avoiding the main walkways, Kasumi stuck to the service lines and used them as her guide. There may not be a clear route, but she learned to never stray too far from insulated power lines. When something needed protected power, it most likely needed oxygen. The rafter eventually spread into smaller ports for the wiring, so she moved to the I-beam structures. An immediate side-jump found her footing perfectly placed on the narrow strut and she followed the stretch of iron until it ended at an opening. Below was nothing but a seemingly endless chasm. Angled straight ahead was the main bridge connecting the two regions. She had to get to the bridge and get to the other side. In between the shaft and the bridge was a considerable gap, but she did spot a drainage pipe that stuck out just enough from her side before running alongside the bridge.

Her heart was racing so much that she could hear it in her ears. Her adrenaline was pumping harder than she ever remembered. It wasn't an easy jump and was further than she had ever preformed, but those thoughts only lasted a second. The thief was already running as fast as she could until her feet pushed off the edge with her arms reaching for the pipe. The time spent in her freefall limbo was long enough to realize, for the first in a long time, her palms had gone clammy, but her gloves gripped the steel when she caught it. Her momentum spun her upwards in an elegant spiral before landing on her feet and the palm of her hand. It would have been awe aspiring if she wasn't cloaked. Her talent was only hers as she ran passed bystanders that merely wondered where the sudden breeze had come from. For Kasumi Goto, she finally entered Kenzo.

There were many warehouses in the district for many businesses. It'd take a whole day to check them all, so she started looking for ones with the least foot traffic. Any person not involved with a gang would stay clear and it'd be easy to spot the ones who were. It paid off when her efforts brought her to a Talon logo discreetly painted on one of the walls. From the wear and tear, it looked like it had been there for some time. That had to be it. She scanned alongside the building until she caught a glimpse of a maintenance shaft. It was higher up, so she made a running start and vaulted herself up to the vent grating. Careful inspection revealed wiring and sensors along the edges. Black-market safeguards. Extensive stuff, but nothing she hadn't encountered before. She delicately cut the cover with her tanto; ensuring not to cut the actual wire. With it now exposed, she attached a military grade encryption device. It connected with her omni-tool allowed her to work her way into the interface. Not only was she able to bypass the sensors, but she tapped into the system and rerouted its control. Security like this was wired over the entire warehouse, so she kept her program running in case she came across any doors that might get tripped inside.

The grating was pulled off and she maneuvered herself through the small tunnel, pulling with the palms of her hands and pushing with the soles of her feet. Eventually, she poked out the other side and carefully planted herself on one of the rafters. It was dark in the ceiling space and high enough from the loading grounds. Below was a maze of crates that could have been anything from illegal weapons to red sand. Needing a better field of view, she cut into the camera feed. After swiping through a few empty screens, two turians were spotted outside smoking. Confirmed Talons by their face markings. She heard the door open when they returned inside, so she turned off her omni-tool to hide its glow. The pair strolled casually into the base. She followed. No too close, but within her line of sight. Her feet made no noise across the ceiling platform. This was a delicate situation now and she couldn't take chances. As much as she wanted to rush in, she had to play it smart.

"You have balls," a dual toned voice stated.

"Krogans have those. I'm just nuts," she heard Brandon say.

Kasumi breathed a sigh of relief that he was still alive, but when she saw him, all the color drained from her face. Brandon was tied to a chair with his hands behind his back. His wrists were bruised from the tight restraints and blood ran down the legs of the chair. His suit was torn and gashed to shreds. Underneath it was blotches of red that she couldn't tell was blood seeping from underneath or dripping from the multiple cuts on his face. Welts were forming on his chest and she could only guess that his ribs were sprained or broken.

The guards caught up and now there were five turians. Four guards in armor. The fifth one was in a black suit with a Predator on his hip. Kasumi eyed that one closely and made note of the many things that looked out of place. Not in the wrong way, but items that separated a low level thug from a boss of low level thugs. The markings on his face were a little more elegant than the regular Talon facepaint. There was more red across his mandibles and brighter white highlights under his eyes. His posture was straight. His speech slow and deliberate. Not some military washout. There was rank in his movements. Control. Power. He had to be the leader of the Talons. He had to be Derius.

"You don't strike me as the random merc. I'm gonna presume you were former Alliance? Half of everyone is nowadays. What rank were you?"

"I was a drunkard," Brandon said.

Derius laughed, "That makes up the entire navy, but much the same. Did my stay with the Hierarchy. Then decided to come out here."

"Why? You wanted to be Aria's bitch?"

The turian stepped closed and slugged him in the gut. From the Derius' small winch, that hadn't been the first time. He flexed his hand and wiped the speck of blood on what was left of Brandon's suit.

"I'm surprised you didn't pop your cyanide capsule like the other ones we've found. Save yourself from all this pain."

"It's cause I'm not Cerberus."

Derius tilted his head and grabbed a datapad off one of the crates, "You worked for Cerberus. Am I wrong? It's the same organization that murdered Aria's daughter. You deny that… Mr. Davis?"

Kasumi went wide eyed when Derius spoke his real name. The turian walked over and flaunted the datapad in Brandon's face.

"Cerberus logs. These were given to Aria, but I learned to always keep a copy of something someone else really wants. Not a lot about you personally, but the name comes up in a few documents. It mentions about a task force you were involved in. Locations. Some operations on Omega. Mostly encoded with omissions, but I'm confident you'll find nothing out of place. Even has a nice description of you."

"Are… are my eyes really brown?" Brandon spoke in mock astonishment.

Derius chuckled at the human's resolve and took a knee in front of him, "You're lucky I'm keeping you here. Back at base, there are a lot of turians who don't like racist humans."

"How sweet that you thought of me. Does that mean I have to buy you dinner now?"

He was rewarded with a hard left hook.

"Usually things get rough on the third date," Brandon croaked out.

A strong backhanded followed which made Kasumi cringe.

"You should quickly learn to mind that tongue of yours. I don't want you dead," Derius warned.

"I'm already a dead man."

"I'll let Aria make that decision."

Brandon chuckled, despite the painful wincing every time he did, "Nah. Aria is a pussycat compared to what's been hunting me."

The turian raised his browplate with a curious expression, "Worse than Aria? I doubt the Alliance has anything worrisome. Let me guess, you're a deserter? Cerberus is trying to ensure you account for your misgivings?"

"Worse…Archangel."

Derius stared at him for a long moment before scoffing, "Archangel's dead."

"You know how long he's been trying to hunt me down? It was before he took that name. Just some hotshot with a score to settle. When I came here to lay low I thought the same. Everyone said he was, but never did anyone claim the bounty on his head. Nor did anyone produce his corpse. Even if there was forty percent of a carcass, they'd find it for those credits. Instead, he just disappeared after that attack. Maybe he escaped and no one wants to believe they were bested by a lone turian. The more I dug the more suspect it became. And just a month ago, an entire gang is murdered and exiled?"

Some of the turians glanced to one another with a slight look of concern. Derius didn't flinch a mandible, "No one said anything about him being there."

"Cause anyone one who knew just happened to be dead, right?" He made eye contact with the other four guards before returning to their leader, "And now, you brought me to a warehouse full of red sand? Oh Derius, you just handed him our asses on a silver platter."

The Talon leader looked at him hard before withdrawing his pistol. Kasumi felt her heart stop, but then the turian slammed Brandon across his face with the butt of his gun. Blood streaked across the floor and she was forced to watch a veil of pain washed over Brandon's face, an image that burned into her mind, as he buckled like a ragdoll. A lesser man would be unconscious from such a hard hit, but he managed to move his head a little.

"I'm the only turian you should be concerned about right now. You can tell stories all you want, but that man is dead. As are all his friends. And I'm not going to bullshit you, I really don't care what you know or don't know. You're nothing but a bargaining chip. When Aria's people take you, all you can do is pray for a quick death."

Derius leaned close and poked his bare talon on his cheekbone.

"Which you ain't gonna get."

He scratched it across his cheek leaving a bloody gash. Brandon groaned through his teeth before his head fell. Kasumi knew what he was trying to do. Trying to stall them. Keep them preoccupied. Buy time. And he was paying the price for it.

"That prick from Aria on his way?" Derius asked his guards.

One of his associates nodded, "Yes, sir. He'll be here within the hour."

As hard as it was to leave Brandon alone, she moved away from the group and found a spot to observe the security cameras. They should be watching every way in. Apart from the massive docking doors, the only other way in was a service entrance and the main one leading to the main street. She put her bets on the street entrance, but raced over to the other side of the warehouse. The main door was in line of sight of the turians, so she deactivated the service door and swooped around the outside. She hoisted herself on the power rafters lining the ceilings on the street and prepared to wait.

Time dragged past, but Aria's lackey finally approached. She knew the batarian, Garka, from repeated beratings at Afterlife. Annoyance was all over his face, but he was still a loyal soldier and enforcer. That's where Kasumi faced the harsh choice. Any attack on Aria's people, whether obedient or incompetent, was a line **never** to be crossed. It was an act of war. Even she was smart enough not to fuel that fire. But here, now, that caution wasn't present.

With her cloak still active, she jumped from her perch to the lower level. Her landing echoed just enough for Garka to glance around. Seeing nothing, he made his way to the edge of the warehouse. Before he could press the buzzer, Kasumi deactivated it. The lone batarian tapped his foot as he waited for an answer. Kasumi matched her steps to his agitated taps until her tanto reached around his neck. It was a clean slice and his panicked shouts were muffled with her hand pressed around his mouth. His voice and gurgles shared only between them. He hopelessly tried to resist, but she thrust the blade upwards into his chin. Slowly but surely, Garka started slumping and she guided his weakening body to the ground. His eyes stayed frozen in pain and shock even after the life had left them. Her hand moved from his mouth and no breaths came.

Kasumi wasn't an assassin. She was a professional. But this wasn't a job gone wrong or a botched hand off. This was personal, and she wasn't prepared lose another person she loved.

* * *

"Where's that fucking batarian?" One of the guards spurted as he waited by the door, "He shoulda been here ten minutes ago."

A knock answered his question. When he opened it, Garka's body fell flat on the ground and jolted all of Derius' gang. Then the power cut off. The warehouse was momentarily pitch black before the emergency spotlights blinked on. Every one of them withdrew a firearm and was aiming in all directions.

"You think that's him?" One of them said.

"Who?" Asked Derius.

"The Arch Angel."

Derisus groaned, while cycling a thermal clip in his pistol, "You've been listening to those rumors too long. He's dead!"

"But… the stories about him. Is he really that good of a shot?" Another guard said.

"I heard he can disappear," said yet another.

"Well, we'll find out," Derius said as he looked to his men with an amused smirk, "won't we?"

The echoing of a dropped metal pipe sent all the men aiming at the sound's source. Derius and two of his men inched towards it while the other two brought up the back. One of the rear guards felt a weird pressure on his shoulder before the swift slice of flesh cut across his unplated throat. The other turian turned around only for the cloaked figure to guide the dying guard's pistol and press down on the trigger; coating the wall behind the turian's head with blue gore. Derius and his other two men turned around only to see one dead guard and the other on the floor, choking on his own blood. Out of frustration than mercy, Derius walked over to the dying guard and ended his life quicker with a bullet to the head.

"Knives are quite close proximity for a sniper to use," he said, doubt layered in his tone.

Derius turned around to see a materialized Kasumi deliver a harsh shadow strike behind another guard's head, sending him to the ground with an audible snap. The other lookout tried to aim, but she swung herself outside his reach and slid her blade between his calf and leg spur. It dropped him to his knee for Kasumi grab his wrist and pull his arm opposite of his body. Faint cracks popped, but his weapon was away from her. Caring little for his friend, Derius fired his Predator as Kasumi forced the guard's body between her and him. The more agile human dropped her now lifeless shield and followed around with a slash to Derius' wrist. It cut effortlessly through his suit, severing his tendons, and his gun fell to the ground. Unfortunately, Kasumi was close enough that the Talon leader grabbed her in a bearhug. Her arms were locked under his hold and she could feel her hood get flung back. She was face to face with the turian and Derius got his first look at 'Archangel'.

"You're not him," he said with no surprise.

"No, I'm not," she said matter of factly.

Because his grip on her was so tight, she lifted both legs off the ground and heel kicked into each kneecap. Derius' grip faltered. Kasumi stopped her fall with her hands beside her head, and launched herself back to the soles of her feet. The turian was huffing and eyed the pistol on the ground. Kasumi was thinking the same as she leaped for it just after he did. Her nimble hands swiveled around the weapon's handle just as his talons scratched along the floor. The thief's breaths were quick, shallow, and her body was daring to cramp from her sprints. But none of that affected how she steadied the pistol.

Derius forced himself to his feet as the sights followed. He finally sighed and put his hands up away from his body, "You win. You can take your little boytoy back."

Kasumi didn't lower the weapon. She didn't even move the hair out of her exposed face. The moment that lasted couldn't be measured in real time. For the two people it seemed like an endless void.

"It's not because you've seen me," Kasumi Goto said, "It's for what you tried to take from me." She pulled the trigger.

The shot put the turian to the ground instantly. No grandiose death. It was nothing short of an execution. She neared his body cautiously to make sure he was dead. He was, yet she emptied the rest of the clip and made the turian's corpse twitch from every angered shot. Smoke oozed from the heated weapon which she let fall to the ground. The adrenaline slowed and the exhaustion that hit was nearly overwhelming, but she sucked in a firm breath and pulled her hood back over her head.

Kasumi hurried over to her near lifeless Brandon and undid his restraints. He wasn't moving and she had to stop him from falling out of the chair. Her small hands cupped his cheeks and turned him towards her.

"Brandon?"

No response. Suddenly, a bad deja vu overwhelmed her. Her memory flashed to Keiji in a pool of his own blood. She couldn't tear her eyes from his body sprawled on the floor and she momentarily forgot where she was. She cradled him in her arms as his life faded away. How blood coated her gloves-

This wasn't the past. She shook the old images of Keiji from her head and focused.

"Come on. Look at me," she pleaded.

The only movement he could do was a slow opening of his eyes, but the disbelief in his expression spoke volumes.

"Kasumi?"

"Shh. It's me. I got you. We're leaving."

Hooking his arm over her shoulder, she got him to his feet. He was in pain, but managed to walk with her help. The warehouse wasn't too far from the Talon's private docking bay. Made sense that the Talon's would keep it close, however, that meant Kasumi couldn't waste time getting him to the clinic. She had to get them off this station. The Talons would hunt down whoever killed their leader, and Aria would want heads cut for an escaped Cerberus agent, no matter who it was, and killing one of her men. They needed to get out **now**.

The public docking bay wasn't too far, and while a beaten couple wandering through Omega wasn't out of the ordinary, it was an easy target. Even in the small trip, a few vorcha practically followed like vultures circling a carcass. However, any that came too close noticed the, already blood covered, blade Kasumi was clutching. They backed off. When they finally reached the _Razgriz_, she nearly collapsed with him as she dropped him on the bed. Even as tired as she was, she tore and stripped the remains of his bloody clothes to see how bad he was bruised. She wasn't a medic by any means, but knew how to stitch up a wound or check for broken bones. Another hard lesson learned as a thief.

She slathered medi-gel onto the worst of the gashes. As soon as it struck his wounds, his eyes shot open and a sharp groan came from his throat that arched up his chest. In all honesty, he could have cried out like a varren in heat and she would still be eternally grateful that he was alive.

"We're safe, Brandon. We're home. I'm not leaving you," she whispered in his ear while brushing back the stained hair from his face

His body stopped surging and she felt his muscles relax as he listened to her. The medi-gel slowly kicked in and she gave him another dose to knock him out. There was no flutter in his eyes or weary longing soon after. As soon as the pain was replaced by numbness, he was out cold.

Kasumi wasted no time and went straight to the cockpit. Everything Brandon had taught her was put straight to use. Activating the drive core, engaging the engines, knowing to put more power to the micro-thrusters to compensate for core weight. It was almost intuitive, but the manner in which she did it was close to frantic. As soon as she was given the clear, she glided the ship out of the bay and jetted away from Omega. As to where exactly, she made for the furthest human colony she could think of on the far side of the galaxy. And if she was in a better state of mind, she would have noticed the transport ship bearing a familiar insignia dock with Omega.

Autopilot was activated and her body finally relaxed. As comfortable as the captain's chair was, she went back to the bedroom. Yet, when she got to the door, there was a hesitance to open it. She had been running on instinct since the whole mess started. Now that the danger was behind her, a strange feeling washed over her: fear. Fear that beyond the door was something too similar to Keiji. Tentatively, the thief opened the door just enough to glance at her partner. Brandon was lying in the bed, unconscious and bare-chested, but alive. The slight rise and fall of his chest put her fears at ease. He started sporting bad bruises, so she let herself in and quickly covered them with ice packs. He sighed gratefully in his slumber at the cool feeling. She knelt beside him and watched him sleep soundly and safely. Most of the blood had dried, so she took a wet cloth and wiped some of it from his skin, his chest, his face. Finally, she lowered her head on his forehead and hugged him. He didn't deserve this, and she'd make sure he wouldn't from here on.

"I'm so sorry," she choked between tears.

* * *

A growl of thunder jolted her from her thoughts. She tried to ensure the dark ones she'd pressed down didn't dare spoil her reunion further. Her hood shadowed her face as more rain cascaded around her. Kasumi was so beside herself, she didn't notice someone's approach. His distance was kept, not wanting to intrude on the private moment. There was only one person it could.

"It… uh… it would have been Keiji's birthday," she said.

Brandon joined her side in silence. The soundtrack was only the rain bouncing off their clothes. He reached across her back and held her around her shoulder. Her faint shivering stopped at his weighted touch.

"What was he like?" Brandon asked.

"Best hacker I ever knew. Charming. Daring. Could be a bit thick headed."

She smiled the more she remembered about him.

"But always planned ahead. Always looked out for us. For me. Even when I wasn't."

She felt Brandon's grasp tighten around her, as if she'd disappear if he'd let go. More and more she nestled into him.

"For that, I'll always be thankful to him," he said.

They stayed in that embrace, not wanting to move as the galaxy continued around them.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"Just… just for being here… and…"

She looked up into those brown orbs; not caring if he saw the water in her eyes. Kasumi buried her face into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I don't want to be alone again."

This time it was her grip that grew tighter. Brandon kissed her forehead and rested his chin on her head.

"I'll always be here, Kasumi," there was a pause before he added, "even if you can't see me."

"I'd think that would be my line," she replied with a faint chuckle.

They leaned for a small kiss before Brandon gently wiped the tears from her face.

"Now. Let's get you back inside and dried up, huh?"

Kasumi nodded and they went back to their place. This time, there was comfort as she walked in the rain.

* * *

Thanks to my Beta Maxaro. I know. A whole month and no update. Hopefully this makes up for it. Even though August was a bit of vacationing, it took every bit of that month and the one before to get this chapter where it's at. Always wanted/planned to write a Kasumi chapter. It was completely different perspective and took some effort. Lots of time was spent watching live-action Assassin's Creed freerunner videos to get her movements right. That whole scene made me fairly okay with how it turned out. Anyway I'm back and chapters should be back their usual frequency, especially since I've reached my later chapters. Thanks for sticking with the extended wait. If anything, let me know in the reviews or PMs if it was worth it. Enjoy!


	10. Ch10: Wanted Dead or Alive

**ONE WEEK BEFORE THE REAPERS**

A bead of sweat dripped off the tip of Brandon's nose, but he finally got the stator wrenched into the generator. He wiped his greasy palms on his stained jumpsuit and heard a few light cracks as he stood up.

"Stubborn son of a gun. Okay, that oughta do it!" He yelled with a thumbs up.

Cambiata hit the ignition and the generator sputtered as it tried to rotate, much to the aggravation of the owner.

"That damn thing. It's been down for a while. Maybe it needs-"

A swift kick from Brandon's boot jolted the machine, but then it was turning fast and smooth.

"Or that. Thanks, Dave. I should have the credits for you by the end of the week."

"It's no rush, doctor. End of the week is fine."

Brandon gathered up his tools from the doctor's office and made his way to the residential hub of the colony. Between old Earth equipment in Indiana and the gremlins from the _Razgriz_, offering his services as a mechanic wasn't a stretch. It was less about the credits and more about keeping up appearances. It would get suspicious if a newly settled couple weren't looking for work.

He got to the open elevator and had no complaints as the platform gradually rose. It didn't matter how slow it was, in a colony of nothing but hills it was better than having to scale them. The top of the distant hills came into view and the clear sky got closer with each passing moment. It was quite familiar to be on a farm based colony. Yet, personally, it felt extremely strange. Kasumi had secluded them in hopes of avoiding Cerberus or any other followers on their tails. It was an ideal location to lay low, but what were the chances that she'd pick this colony? The one where it all began.

Almost three years later and the memory was still vivid. Brandon had been stuck on guard duty by the CIC. He had been aching for some action after hearing the rumors circulating the ship. A secret mission with a Spectre onboard was hard to keep silent after all. He had been eager to go groundside, so he was pissed when Jenkins was chosen instead. It made him hate himself the next time he saw him; the young soldier's body had been riddled with holes. Nihlus was next one brought aboard. A single round to the back of the head. Too close to be a long shot. For for a Spectre to get executed like that, his guard had to have been down. He hadn't known the turian well, but no soldier deserved that kind of death. Some of the crew started calling Saren 'Brutus' when the chase first started. It never really sunk in just how serious it was until later missions. Then Kaidan and Ashley had come carrying an unconscious Shepard. His commander had spent most of the time in the med-bay. That's what he took back from that mission: death. Kaidan, Ashley, and Shepard were the only ones who had been there and he'd only know the stories of the beacon and the geth.

The elevator stopped and Brandon stared across the landscape. Green hills with scattered ruins emitting from the ground. This past month was the first time he'd set foot on its soil. This was supposed to be the start of the end of the world, but to be on Eden Prime, and seeing how beautiful it is, it was a weird juxtaposition.

"Heard you got the Doc's generator working. You're putting my handyman-ship to shame," a voice yelled, knocking Brandon from his thoughts.

"I was just a quarian in a previous life," he jousted.

Terry waved a dismissive hand. He was one of the security personnel stationed on the colony. A bit cocky, but a nice guy and serious when it counted.

"Don't get so smug. I had to get the dig-site elevator fixed after those damn white coats kept complaining. You'd think they'd unearth Tutankhamun's tomb or something."

Brandon just shrugged. The colony was still a hot spot for Prothean studies and sometimes brought in tours of scientists. The inquisitive groups reminded him of Liara. Even though a select few knew the fate surrounding the Protheans, a majority were still fascinated and eager for discovery. An innocence he had long lost.

"Oh, Dave. By the way, me and some of the guys are getting together for the Biotiball game tomorrow. Count you in?"

"No thanks. Spending time with the girlfriend."

"Come on," Terry whined, "There'll be beer and chips."

"You got dip with those chips?"

"Nah. Try putting dip on a supply request."

"No! You never buy pre-made dip. I'll tell ya what. I may not stay for the whole game, but I'll bring ya some quality dip tomorrow. Learned how to make it with leftovers back in the Alliance."

"Sounds good, man."

Brandon ended the conversation with a mock salute and continued to his living quarters. As soon as he set foot in the apartment, something caught his senses. His nostrils flared and the pleasant aroma of seasoned meat and vegetables was overwhelming. There Kasumi was, in casual clothes, hovering over a fying pan in the kitchen.

"I don't think I've ever seen you cook dinner," Brandon surmised as he leaned his shoulder against the wall with a fold of his arms.

"No?"

"Ordering in doesn't count."

She turned her attention from the task at hand and threw him a wink, "Willing to try something new?"

The corners of his lips lifted into a smile before he gestured at his dirty wardobe.

"Just give me five."

He hurried into the bedroom. It was a basic colonial hub; nothing fancy and that was deliberate. Kasumi and Brandon took nothing from the _Razgriz_ to their apartment. No books, clothes, or statues. There was only exception. Brandon dropped his toolbag next to the nightstand. On top were his twin pistols seated in their leather holsters. He really was a smelly mess, so he stripped for a quick shower. Before he stepped in, he couldn't help but glance at his reflection in the mirror. The first couple weeks in the apartment he had needed Kasumi to physically help him move. Now, there were only remnants of the beating he endured. The once purple welts on his chest had healed to only faint splotches of on his skin. It was luck he only sprained a few ribs and hadn't broken them. The cuts on his face were gone, though there was a faint scar from his cheekbone if someone looked close enough. It wasn't a high point in his life as a career criminal.

He managed to tear himself away from the mirror and let the water wash off the day's work. Afterwards, he threw on some sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and made his way to the kitchen. Kasumi was already walking to the small table with two steaming plates. They were a multi-colored array of peppers and lightly charred strips of brown meat.

"Beef and bell peppers. Did the best I could with the local market," Kasumi said.

"You've seen me survive much worse than this," he joked.

"I have," she said darkly; her cheery demeanor wavering slightly by the rasp in her voice, "so you better stop making a habit of it."

Brandon mentally kicked himself for trying to make light of the incident on Omega. Kasumi would say differently, but she hadn't quite shaken off what she had seen. It was little things like making sure he was okay and checking in on small jobs. She was worried and he couldn't blame her for it. He forgot the food and hugged her in his arms before planting a light kiss on her forehead.

"I'm sorry. You know I always try to be careful."

"I know," she said quietly, before changing the subject, "You know, I was helping Michelle with some of her plants in her greenhouse. I might be able to get us some fresh picked apples tomorrow morning."

He let it go and quirked and eyebrow, "With her permission, I hope?"

"Have to keep up the sweet, kind neighbor act, don't I?"

"Right. Because you are anything but…" he teased with kiss to her lips.

A few hours later, after an impressively delicious dinner and tiring evening activities, Kasumi rested effortlessly in the bed. Although, the space next to her was empty. Brandon sat at the desk, illuminated by the orange glow of the extra-net terminal. He scrolled through articles and searched the news for anything pertaining to the Reapers; perhaps a clue regarding their movements. Nothing. The closest thing was the e-book _Criminal Negligence: The Citadel Council and the True story of the Geth Threat_. It was a conspiracy theory written by Tevos' C-sec guard during the Battle of the Citadel. That was the most real information he could find.

When the trail went cold, he turned his attention to Shepard. There was no shortage of news on her. The incarceration. The accusations. The protests for indictment to the batarian Hegemony. Of course it was kept as an internal affair. No word as to why or how or even if. The speculation was rampant with propaganda for and against. Brandon had to rub his temples from the strain. It was sad knowing all the facts and not being able to find a single one of them in any of the jounralistic articles.

He sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair. It had been roughly six months since the team disbanded. As great as things had been for him, everything else just seemed to get worse. Anyone who knew anything about the incoming war was scattered to the wind. Legion was beyond the veil. Zaeed had dropped off the radar. Jacob and Miranda were in hiding. Thane was using an unknown alias. Garrus had stopped answering his extra-net mail. Tali disappeared as of late. Samara was a Justicar; enough said. Mordin went underground with STG. Jack seemed to be laying low as only a colorful criminal would. Even Joker's mail was constantly monitored due to his association with Cerberus. In fact, the only person he could talk to he was attempting to message now.

Hey Grunt, or rather Urdnot Grunt to be more precise, how's life on the Tuchanka?

A few minutes passed by, but eventually a response arrived.

huy brEndin1 U ol son of a piegaj1

Krogans and extra-net messages were never a good idea, be it the large fingers or actually knowing how to spell, so Brandon activated a vid chat window. Grunt's large head filled up the whole screen as he peered in.

_"Hmm. Huh? Brandon? Ha! Good to see you ya old pyjak."_

"Hey Grunt. How's Tuchanka treating you?"

_"Great! I have my own squad now. Took a few battered skulls to get there but I'm earning my place amongst Urdnot."_

"Good to hear you are causing as much chaos as I remember."

_"Not as much like the old days."_

A silence stayed between the two until Brandon leaned close.

"Has Wrex been getting everyone ready?"

Grunt hummed, or growled depending on who was asked, in affirmation.

_"Wrex has been placing priority on defense towers and Tomkahs. Even a few underground deals for krogan fleet ships have been rumored. Anything that flies."_

"What about weapons?"

_"That's a bit tricky. Whenever a clan sees another arming itself, they expect a war. The dumb ones attack first. The smart ones plan to attack after the dumb ones weaken the target."_

"And the krogans themselves? Do they believe the Reaper threat?"

_"Clan Urdnot believes Wrex. They'll follow him. Doesn't matter who the fight is with. I know the Shaman has been in talks and foresees the threat. As for the other clans… well… they'll learn one way or another."_

Brandon breathed a little easy. In reality, he was far from alleviated, but it was as if a little weight had been lifted from his chest.

"Thanks, Grunt. Glad to know someone is prepping out there."

_"The Reapers aren't going to just waltz through us. You can guarantee that."_

The comm went out and the room returned to its orange hue.

"It's gonna get bad, isn't it?" He heard from behind him.

He turned to see Kasumi leaning up on her elbows, sheets draped over her naked form, and eyes watching him. It was so strange to know how bad things will get, yet become so breathless at the sight of the beautiful woman he'd come to love because of it. He shut down the terminal and walked to the bed. Slender arms greeted him across his chest and a warm body pressed behind him. Fine hair tickled his skin as he leaned his head back against hers.

* * *

The light that crept through the window woke Brandon from his slumber. He swung his feet out from the covers and trudged over to the shaded window. The blinds were pulled and he basked in the warmth of Eden Prime's sun rise. If he wasn't careful, he'd get too used to this. The daily routine of push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups started until a proper sweat had built. There was no admirer this morning since Kasumi had promised to return with fresh picked apples. He emerged after his shower in a mist of fog, freshly dressed, with his pistols strapped in their holsters. There were some habits that wouldn't die.

The kettle heated up for some tea. Aside from safe hacking and other thievery tricks, Kasumi taught him how to make a good brew. Never did he think he'd be making tea in the morning. And for two no less. A tray filled with brown, tan, and white eggs was taken from the fridge. This was one of those spoils from growing up on a farm. It was so easy to get fresh ingredients. The spacefaring imitations paled by comparison. Nothing worse than powdered eggs that limited breakfast to scrambled only, especially when he learned Kasumi enjoyed hers 'over easy'. Two slices of bread were pressed into the toaster, but before he could start on the eggs, the doorbell rang. A bit unexpected this early in the morning, but he strolled over to answer. It couldn't have been Kasumi since she always let herself in and most of the 'welcome neighbor' visits stopped after their first week.

Three more taps at the door.

"Hang on a sec! You better not be asking for that dip now. I thought the game didn't start for another hour?" He yelled before the metal door slid to the side.

Instead of Terry or one of the other colonists, a salarian occupied the doorway. He stood straight and firm wearing dark armor with yellow lines. His skin tone almost a dull gray and a Predator pistol reverse holstered on his left thigh. Oddly, there was no sense of urgency between the pair. They just stared blankly at each other as if both had expected this outcome before it happened.

"Come on in," Brandon finally said, but with no emotion behind it.

He calmly moved towards the kitchen and motioned for the guest to take a seat. The salarian in question chose to stand; eyes never leaving Brandon.

"Tea?"

Again, no response.

Brandon placed two mugs on the table and moved back to the whistling kettle. Even whilst pouring each cup, both stayed fixed on the other and never broke eye contact. It was only after he prepped the cups and drank from his own did the salarian took the one for himself. The first moment of surprise was when the guest made a pleasant hum as he sipped.

"That's good. Not too sweet."

"The trick is using the best honey," Brandon stated, recalling Kasumi's words, "That's from an asari monastery."

They stood, enjoying the aroma and taste, despite the tension in their body language.

"You're a tough man to find," the salarian said, taking another sip.

"I was unaware you were looking for me, Bau."

"STG has their sources," the Spectre deadpanned, "Though you prove to be as elusive as the one you are associated with."

It was hard for Brandon not to chuckle, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't," replied the Spectre, showing no amusement.

Brandon licked his lips and took another long gulp of his tea.

"If you feel inclined, how'd you find me?"

"The incident on Bekenstein easily fit the MO. Even though it was a two person team, I know who one of them had to be."

"That's quite an assumption, but Eden Prime is quite a long way from Bekenstein."

"True, but Solomon Gunn spawned quite a reputation in between here and there."

"Gunn? I heard that man is a ghost," Brandon said, biting down a smirk.

"Funny. That's what STG said too. No records exists. Nothing but an alias. Witness accounts point to him as the lead suspect in that heist. Shortly after, he was involved in an arms deal gone wrong with with Clan Thax. Months followed and the trail disappeared until we intercepted messages involving the name. It was private connection between the Ten Street Reds and a recently established division on Omega. It talked about an Alliance on the space station, but before we could send an informant, the entire Omegan sect had been annihilated."

"Sounds dangerous. So what are you doing here?"

The slight narrow of the salarian's hairless brow showed the first sign of irritation.

"When Mr. Gunn fled the the scene on Bekenstein, his apparent getaway vehicle had no driver or passenger. No further sightings appeared in the Hall, so I searched every stolen skycar, rental agency, dock report, and hotel within a thirty mile radius."

"What did that take you? A month?"

"More. After numerous dead ends, STG received word of several high ranking scientists murdered on Kahje. Separate incident, but it still warranted my attention as a Spectre. During the course of that investigation, I noticed something familiar about one of the outgoing ships that day. Its identification number to be precise."

Brandon's grip went hard at the one piece of evidence that might manage to stick.

"I recognized it from a ship that left Bekenstein the same night of the auction. A ship that so happened to have been docked at each of those cities roughly in the same time span."

"It's a small galaxy," Brandon quipped.

"It is. The difference is those identify codes belong to a small transport vessel. And the one in this picture," Bau tossed said picture on the table, "is not."

The holopad showed a black and white photo of the _Razgriz_. Judging from the look of the surrounding dock, it had to be from Kahje.

"As you humans call it, 'dumb luck'. It happened to be in view of the security camera. It didn't resemble anything in the database, so I had the Alliance send me some old files. Apparently, a ship like this was sold a few years ago to a Mr. Brandon Davis."

The knot in Brandon's gut worsened.

"Suspiciously enough, he disappeared within the past year without a trace, and a month ago, the same ship docked at this colony and one of the individuals, fitting your description, took residence here."

Bau seemed quietly confident, like a cat that'd cornered a hapless mouse. It might not have been concrete evidence, but it was circumstantial enough under a Spectre's authority. Having served with one, Brandon knew what they were capable of and how little they needed.

So he poured himself another hot cup of tea.

"Well then," he raised his mug to chime Bau's, "Cheers to you for your successful hunt."

Though hesitant at first, the salarian lifted his own with a little smirk.

POP

The toast shot up from the toaster making the salarian jump. Acting fast, Brandon splashed his hot tea into his guest's face. The simple, yet effective distraction gave Brandon the opportunity to roll out to the opposite end of the table and draw his pistol. The Spectre was no slouch as he quickly recovered and cross drew his own weapon. Jondum Bau and Brandon Davis stood with arms stretched and pistols drawn.

"You are harboring the thief. She is all I want. You can walk away from this right now."

"That's not happening," he emphasized with a click of the safety.

"You're willing to protect her? You'll be an associate to aiding and abetting a major fugitive. Known or unknown."

"Yes. And the only reason you aren't dead right now is because you are trying to **catch** her. Not kill her."

"You're confident I won't?"

Though the sternness of the Spectre's voice came through, Brandon saw through his bluff.

"If you were willing to kill me to get to her we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we? You're a Spectre after all."

Bau blinked after his ploy quickly faltered. It had become a proper stalemate now that the odds were known.

"It's your job and I have the utmost respect for you, as does she by the way, but I will keep her safe. From the law or her enemies."

They stayed glued to one another with uncompromising faces. Waiting. Gauging the next move. What wasn't expected was the small chuckle from Bau.

"She is quite a woman."

The grin from Davis formed all on his own.

"First thing we've agreed upon-"

The far wall of the building suddenly exploded inward, launching the two men to the ground in a shower of dust and debris.

"Ugh. Damn it," groaned Brandon, "Thought STG was neater with demolitions?"

"That's not STG!"

Gunshots rang out keeping the two of them ducked on the ground. They barely had enough time to scurry behind the overturned table before enemies blasted away at them. Brandon peeked over his cover to make out their attackers, but couldn't see trough the dust. However, when he was forced to duck following a barrage of bullets, he knew the enemy was well-equipped enough to see him through it. Brandon looked at Jondum. The Spectre returned it. There was no verbal speech but everything was communicated in that instant. They both emerged from cover and fired at the agents storming in. As the dust cleared from the ensuing firefight, the ones in the forefront revealed large shields covering their advance. The human and salarian's rounds bounced right off the armored plating and forced them to reload.

Bau had just reloaded his pistol when he heard someone just above him. Moving quick, quicker than Brandon had ever seen, the Spectre flung a soldier over the couch and shoved his omni-blade neck deep. The Centurion was dead instantly, but they caught sight of that recognizable armor.

"Cerberus," Brandon said the name like it was a curse. He then fired rapidly with both guns to keep the other soldiers from getting closer and gaining a better footing. His counter attack was soon joined by the Spectre.

"How'd they find you?" Bau called over an Energy Drain.

"We covered our tracks thoroughly. I take it you didn't?"

"I didn't anticipate someone was following me!"

"Well that's your first mistake," when the slides locked back Brandon ducked to reload, "Bet you any credits they followed you and you lead them to straight to us."

More bullets riddled the walls and pinned them down. Brandon patted down the dead Centurion for some spare thermal clips. After taking what he could, he grabbed the dead man's M-96 Mattock. Brandon signaled to Jondum, then himself, and pointed to the bedroom. Even across different species, a basic hand gesture as that sufficed. With a nod of the head, Bau darted first with Brandon providing covering fire with the rifle. Only after it ran dry did he duck in and the door sealed shut.

"We bought some time, but I'm sure they've surrounded the building. If they don't hack the door they'll just blow the wall," said the salarian, over the ricochet of bullets bouncing outside.

"What would you do, Bau? Go in there and say you're a Spectre, see if they drop their guns."

Brandon started pulling away the rug, much to the bemusement of Jondum.

"Then what is the plan?"

The plan revealed itself when the human grasped two hidden rods and pulled up a circular hatch. Activating the light on his omni-tool, Brandon shone it down the small, rocky path leading into the ground, away from the apartment.

"Let's get out of here, and then you can arrest me," Brandon quipped as he lowered himself down.

Bau looked back at the door where Cerberus would enter and then followed his temporarily former enemy.

It was a tight spot. The rock tunnel was rough with sharp edges, but with both Brandon's and Jondum's omni-light, it was easy to maneuver. The gunshots had gotten fainter the deeper and further away they went from the apartment. Soon it was just their breaths and the scrapes along the dirt channel making the most noise. They kept going until they entered a patch of open space that had been dug far better than the tunnel. The space expanded further and revealed the bases of some of the Prothean architecture that stuck out above ground. The chasm was large enough to hide an Athabasca class freighter.

"Tell me, was this your doing?" The Spectre asked dryly.

"Giving me too much credit. Me and Kasumi picked the location cuz it was over some of the old Prothean dig sites. This was from some archaeological dig before Eden Prime was a full colony. We just extended a tunnel so we could use if we would, for some reason, need a quick exit."

"Very smart. And very intriguing."

"Not to mention a few Prothean items if you need a quick chit. They've gotten more valuable in recent years."

Bau rolled his eyes, "I see working with Miss Goto has rubbed off on you."

Now able to stand and walk, the two men made their way to the furthest edge of the underground dig site. The exit consisted of a hole cut out of the side of a hill, so Brandon moved cautiously from the underground with the rifle in hand. After a quick peek to his left and right, he motioned Bau to follow him out.

They ended up a fair hundred yards away from the apartment. Plumes of black smoke billowed in the distance. However, what got both of their attention, was that it was emitting from numerous places in the colony. The shadows of three Kodiaks bearing the Cerberus logo passed overhead and forced the pair to duck to the ground.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems like a lot of troops just to take us out. There is enough of a force here to keep the whole colony in check. Why would they send an army?" Bau asked.

"Despite how much it wounds my pride," Brandon quipped sarcastically, "I think we might have been a bonus. Cerberus is after something else here."

"Here? What?"

"Probably something Prothean based. That's why those scientists were slaughtered on Kahje."

Brandon and Bau paused amidst the shouts and the gunshots echoing from the colony.

"Those sons a bitches," Brandon spat with a tight grasp on the Mattock.

"Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment. We've got to get off this planet and notify the Council. For Cerberus to pull this kind of maneuver… this has to be something big."

Brandon scoffed at that idea.

"Right, the 'Council', because they always send help when you ask for it. I mean, it's a little arrogant to try and catch me and the thief alone with no backup, Bau. The Council couldn't spare a few guys?"

This annoyed the salarian with a small sneer, "My case was not exactly… high priority."

"Right, just like the Reapers and all of that nonsense."

"Irrelevant now. Where is your ship?"

"It's parked about half a mile off beyond the hills to avoid suspicion. What about yours?"

"Not close. It's on the other side of the ridge back towards the colony."

"Guess you're carpooling with us then. Let's get moving."

Bau and Brandon started towards the hills. Served Brandon right for being happy he never had to climb one. Each kept their weapons ready if they needed to fight at a moments notice. Brandon had to acknowledge the humor in this. The hunter and hunted had been finally pitted against in each, yet in less than an hour, the Spectre he'd been holding a gun on was covering his back.

The walk continued uneventfully for just short of just over half and hour. The lack of noise other than the crushing grass was a bit tedious, so the criminal offered some kind words to the Spectre.

"Sorry about the tea."

"If that was the worst you planned, you can dismiss it. Shouldn't you be more worried about Miss Goto?"

"I am, believe me, but if anything went wrong, the plan was to meet back at the ship. She's probably waiting for us there already."

"You plan ahead. Then again, Miss Goto always has a habit of planning for the unexpected."

For some reason, that statement irked him. Something to do with that smirk the salarian made whenever he talked about Kasumi.

"You know, I've had my run in with Spectres in the past," Brandon half-lied, "Not many would spend so much time tracking down one little thief."

"She is responsible for the theft of many highly sought items-"

"Yeah, and corporates are selling insider information. Let's be honest, her impact on the galaxy isn't diabolical. I thought Spectres went after slavers and gangs and stuff? I mean you talk like she's more of an infatuation than-"

There wasn't the quick rebuttal from the Spectre this time. His features hardened as he avoided the question, but not entirely escape it. Like an enigma refused to be solved, yet he knew the answer. Very uncharacteristic for a salarian. More along the lines of a crush.

That made Brandon stop in his tracks, "Wait… is she?"

Bau looked away.

"That woman…bewitches me. She's driven me all over the galaxy. Every time I thought I was close, she slipped through my fingers, leaving only a trace for me to find. The more I went after her I wondered… did she purposely let me get as close as I did? Soon I started to wonder if I was tracking her for her crimes… or just for her."

Bau seemed to be in his own thoughts. On the other hand, it put Brandon in an awkward place.

"Bau… listen… Kasumi-"

Gunshots from the distance splintered the ground around them in a glorious interruption.

"Thank you," he sighed with relief.

"What?"

"I said run!"

Both the human and salarian ran from the fire behind them with their heads down. The muzzle blasts intensified revealing more troops in pursuit. Brandon took point with Bau firing back at any of the white splotches of armor.

"How far?" The salarian asked.

"Too far to outrun-"

Brandon was cut off when a stream of bullets whizzed at their direction.

"Turret! Get down!" Bau yelled.

Each dived for cover; Bau behind a fallen tree and Brandon behind a massive boulder. Both covered their faces from the splinters of rock and wood at the deafening drone of the fast firing turret. The break in the fire meant the machine gun had overheated. Bau moved from cover and activated his energy drain to drop its shields. Brandon followed up with a barrage of rifle rounds, effectively destroying the turret. Unfortunately, the Cerberus squad was on them hard.

Bau's thermal clip popped from his Predator, "Out."

He ducked behind the tree amidst more gunfire. It wouldn't provide him cover for long and the Spectre was in dire need of support. Weirdly, Brandon wondered if he should. It was a perfect scenario for a criminal to leave him behind. An enemy could leave him to die and give themselves a chance to get away. Of course, this train of thought lasted for about five seconds. He emerged from cover and marched into the Cerberus fray returning a wave of gunfire.

"Bau!"

The Spectre was tossed the Mattock before his friend withdrew both_ Arondight _and_ Excalibur._

"Thanks, Davis!"

The pair shot back, pinning the down the Cerberus advance. The duo took the lull in the gunfight to retreat to the boulder. Brandon quickly gave the Spectre another thermal clip before reloading his own.

"You could have left me behind. I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing, Bau. Consider this a friendship."

"For the record, Mr. Davis, you make an abysmal hardcore criminal," Bau said with a poorly hidden hint of amusement.

Brandon looked at the salarian and smiled back. The two darted off with each giving covering fire to their flanks. The return fire lessened and they took their chance to charge up to the crest of the hill. When they reached the edge of the slope they stopped short. It was more of a cliff than the angle they had run up. The only direction from the top was a long way down. Even though it was mostly grassy terrain, the jagged rocks on the bottom of the fall would leave them busted and broken, if not dead.

"You have a contingency plan?" Bau remarked skeptically.

There was no cover and Cerberus was right on them, leaving no chance to run. The two men turned their backs to the edge and watched more of that white armor come through the green shrubbery. The Cerberus agents started to slow their pace from a run to a walk. They knew they had cornered them. This was it.

"How much ya got?" Asked Brandon.

"Half a clip. You?"

"Three shots each."

They two men waited for the soldiers to get in range. Brandon glared at the enemy and, unexpectedly, so did Bau. With no fear, they took aim … and squeezed their triggers…

A crack like thunder erupted through the air before tracer lines zipped past their heads. It cut clean through the band of Cerberus forces and forced any left into retreating.

"What the-!?"

Bau looked at the wild grin on Brandon's face, staring behind them. The Spectre followed his gaze and his eyes widened at the large ship. The _Razgriz_ floated behind them with its machine guns steaming.

"That's my girl!"

The ship banked to its side and opened the the entrance hatch for boarding. The men wasted no time getting inside and quickly made their way to the cockpit. At the controls, Kasumi swiveled in the captain's seat and looked at her two passengers.

"You boys are late," exclaimed the thief in brilliant fashion.

"Just ran into some old friends," joked her boyfriend.

Without wasting time, the ship's thrusters blasted them away anymore Cerberus goons and into space.

* * *

Under Bau's direction, they headed to the Annos Basin, for the Pranas system. It was a short jump, but it was obvious they were heading towards Sur'Kesh. Despite the apparent risk of following a Spectre towards not only his homeworld but where STG operated, Kasumi and Brandon went along with the plan. It's wasn't like they could toss him out the airlock. Plus, matters seemed more dire than catching two thieves. At least that was what they were betting on.

_"Incoming vessel. You are approaching Salarian Union space. Please state your intentions."_

Bau entered the cockpit and took the radio, "This is Spectre Jondum Bau. Authorization: 23235283. Confirm voice recognition."

_"Voice recognition confirmed, Spectre Bau."_

"I'm requesting immediate dock with the nearest survelliance shuttle. Priority placement. Confirm request."

_"Our scans conclude weapons systems on craft. Confirm additional guests as friendlies?"_

"Non-threats are present," Bau looked back at Kasumi and Brandon, "Civilians. Non-combatants who aided my escape."

They both smiled.

_"Request confirmed."_

The _Razgriz_ was approached by a ship just smaller than itself. They slowed on the gunship's side and the _Razgriz_ extended the hatch's short pressure tunnel. The shuttle extended its own and locked with the other ship. The clamps sealed shut and air pumped and pressurized the tunnel. When the hatch opened, two Salarian's already had their Avengers ready, but lowered them on the sight of Bau.

"Here's your stop, Bau," said Kasumi.

"Yes, it is," he turned around to what he should call enemies, but that wouldn't be how he'd descirbe them, "I have to admit, I don't have all the facts, nor the whole story, but it's been… educational."

"That, I will take as a compliment," said Brandon, "So what about us?"

Bau smiled almost mischievously, "I think I can afford to give you a one day head start."

"Well, here. You look peckish," Kasumi said as she tossed him a green sphere.

Any other time, Bau would have thought it a grenade, but when he caught it clumsily, he realized it was a green apple. He stared back with wide eyes and she threw him a little salute before the doors shut. On the salarian shuttle, the Spectre watched with a sense of longing as the _Razgriz_ bursted away from the system. Then he looked at the most perfect apple and bit into it with a juicy crunch.

Kasumi and Brandon made for the mass relay and it catapulted them through the systems on a course to possibly the only safe place Brandon could think of. It was close and should have the best security from Cerberus. The auto-pilot was engaged as he went to check up on his girlfriend.

"You doing okay?"

"No worse for wear. How was your time with Bau?"

Brandon scratched his head, deciding how much to go in-depth, "Uh, it was an experience. We didn't kill each other."

"Always a plus. Just wish I could have had some of your breakfast."

He tapped his arm and walked determinately to the kitchen. From one of the cubbies, he pulled out a vat of powder.

"Want some powdered eggs?"

Something so simple, yet her face lit up.

"That'd be great!"

* * *

Much thanks to my Beta-reader Maxaro.


	11. Ch11: All Along the Watchtower

The vast nebula stretched out in an endless expanse of cosmic beauty. Themis and Eirene were orange giants in the distance, with the latter's rings reaching forth like waves from a sea. Space surrounded the _Razgriz_ as she coasted through the void, protecting her occupants as the stars twinkled outside the windows of the cockpit. The sun struck the hull while the mass relay fluttered like winking blue eye.

Meanwhile, Brandon yawned lazily in his chair with shut eyes. He couldn't imagine how Joker dealt with it all day. On second thought, he didn't want to know how that pilot passed the time alone at the controls.

It had been a few days on the move after dropping Bau off on Sur'Kesh. The sudden adrenaline rush after their escape from Eden Prime finally lead to a hard crash soon after. Kasumi took to the bed, but Brandon insisted on staying at the helm in case they bumped into any more visitors. The past two months had felt like one close call after another; each worse than the one before. Twice they had been evicted from their hiding spot, leaving blood and bodies in its wake. It was no coincidence that both were related to Cerberus. The Illusive Man was up to something big. For now though, they needed to regroup, restock, and plan their next course of action. While no place was entirely safe, Brandon knew of one port close by where they wouldn't encounter terrorists or mercenaries. Yet, even while trying to stay on guard, weariness was his biggest enemy.

It took a peck on his lips draw him from his slumber. His eyes half opened to the sight of Kasumi brushing a few stray strands of hair from his face.

"Hey," was the first word out of his mouth.

"Hey. You know you've been cooped up here for a while," her nimble fingers reached around his head and started rubbing wonderful little circles, "The captain should have locked down the helm. It's sloppy to let in thieves and infiltrators."

Her ten digits moved up the back of his head and lightly squeezed. A pleasant groan couldn't be helped as Brandon succumbed to her magic touch.

"Is it? Then why would I want to do that?" He mumbled.

She lifted a leg over his waist and found a nice spot on his lap. She held his head closer and whispered hotly in his ear, "Because then I get to put new meaning when I say, 'Oh Captain, my Captain'."

Said Captain couldn't help the small shiver he felt from her breath on him. His own hands selfishly slid up her thighs, pulling her close. Her arms wrapped behind his neck and they settled into each other's embrace.

"You're too good to me," he said.

Kasumi just shook her head, "You just haven't gotten used to it."

His massage was rudely interrupted by a beep from the navcomputer. Kasumi hopped off while Brandon reluctantly doubled checked their bearing.

"Looks like we're coming up on the station," he said before straightening up in his chair.

In the distance was a speck too perfect in shape to be natural. Small lights scattered its form like the portholes of a ship at night. The closer they came, the more vessels flew by while others circled the station. While that alone was not surprising, the amount of Alliance battlecruisers and dreadnoughts were. Having spent so much time with different races, it was weird to see only their own in such a massive fashion.

"Arcturus Station? You sure about this?" Kasumi asked skeptically.

"Despite the Illusive Man's ties, this has more Alliance than anywhere we can go. Maybe some informants, but it won't be some full-fledged assault team. If we're lucky, we can find out what's been going on and where to go next."

"Alright. I'll trust your judgment on this one."

The _Razgriz_ rocketed towards the station, avoiding crossing shipping lanes and warship headings as she went. Arcturus Station wasn't as massive or as exotic as the Citadel, but it represented humanity's ingenuity and presence as a military power. It began construction in 2151 and was in-construction throughout the First Contact War until 2162. It was an impressive feat to the turians and asari who saw what the humans were capable of in such a short time, especially considering it was done with pre-Council technology. The center sphere of the station was jokingly referred to as the 'flying saucer', while the outstretched docks served as the fleet's shipping yard. The Fifth fleet was predominantly placed at the station and dubbed the 'Arcturus Fleet'. Its position by the mass relay made it the first line of defense for the Sol System and the headquarters for both Parliament and Alliance military operations. It was no surprise that it was also the home for many officers' families, as well as having gained a reputation for trading and cross-species dealings.

The Tower sent the coordinates for a vacant slip in the civilian dock. Oddly, it was on the farthest side of the station and the bay was relatively empty, but there were no issues. Brandon lowered the ship down until he felt a jolt as the clamps connected. The engines eased off and all primary systems were shutdown.

"Never was a fan of this place," Kasumi said as she fiddled with her hood

"Why? Too much security?"

"No, too much bureaucracy."

She almost giggled at Brandon crooked expression.

"That's the reason? Not the heavy security or armed personnel?"

"Oh, I can have fun with that. But the bureaucrats? Too uptight and rarely do they have anything worth stealing."

Brandon just shook his head as he tucked _Excalibur_ in the back of his waistband, abandoning his usual leather holsters. Instead of his long frock coat, he opted for a brown jacket and an old cap. He didn't want to take any chances of being recognized.

"This isn't for jobs, Kasumi. Restock and resupply. That's it. Just sniff the air. Don't kiss the dirt. Maybe we can figure out what's going on with Cerberus, but we do this quick and quiet," Brandon said as he accessed the main hatch.

"I'll be on my best behavior," Kasumi chirped as she knelt down to fix a strap on her boot.

"Just, whatever you do, try to not attract much attention," Brandon said as he stepped out of the ship to the greeting of four Vindicator rifles.

"Freeze and keep your hands where I can see them!"

Brandon did just that, though he couldn't help but mouthing 'oh for fuck's sake'.

The only blessing was the gunmen were Alliance marines. It meant a higher chance they wouldn't just open fire compared to mercenaries or Cerberus. Considering their luck lately, things were actually looking pretty positive.

"Well well. Corporal Brandon Davis. Isn't this a neat little surprise?" A voice boasted with an air of superiority.

'Not this prick!' Brandon screamed in his head.

The uniformed man stared at him with his bright green eyes and rubbed the scruff on his chin, "A little arrogant, isn't it? Running around the galaxy all alone?"

Brandon blinked and noticed from the corner of his eye that Kasumi was gone, or at least visually. He was happy she hadn't been caught, but that meant he was stuck with the short end of the stick.

"Actually, I came here just to see you, Admiral Mikhailovich. I wanted to see if the stick up your ass was still bigger than a turian's," he chuckled, finding the admiral's sudden glare very entertaining.

* * *

In Brandon's expert opinion, being captured sucked. Proper Alliance procedure when it came to interrogation was isolation. Prisoners were not given the time, so what might feel like whole days could have just been a few hours. It was designed to disorient and make the apprehended rely on his or her captors. Give up any information to escape the confinement. In Brandon's case, it could have been two to eight hours by the time he was seated on an uncomfortable chair. He had been placed in a square room, bare of anything besides a corner security camera, a plain table, and another chair.

Sitting across from him, equally as plain, was Rear Admiral Mikhailovich. Former head of the 63rd Scout Flotilla, he was promoted following the Battle of the Citadel. He was Admiral Hackett's Udina, useful at times, but a still a constant, arrogant pain in the ass. The following two hours of Brandon's life were spent asking questions that seemed to repeat in hopes of getting him to answer differently. It wouldn't have been so annoying and tedious if the Admiral was more threatening and less of a complete asshole. Oddly enough, it brought back memories of the long session talking to Miranda about Bahak. In retrospect, this did feel similar, but the view wasn't nearly as interesting to look at and Brandon doubted he would be getting an Irish coffee. And the restraints on his wrists were a bit snug.

"Am I being charged or is it that hard to pin me to something?"

"Cut the wisecracks, Davis. It was reported you were working for Cerberus, a terrorist organization outside the parameters of the Alliance and a direct threat to galactic security. I would act a little less confident if I were you."

Brandon was starting to understand the strain Shepard must go through whenever she met someone who didn't know her, "I was working for Commander Shepard. Not Cerberus."

"Yes, and your former commander has been rotting in a cell on Earth for nearly six months after annihilating 300,000 lives. Maybe you can tell me a better story than Reavers."

"Reapers. They're called Reapers. What do you know about them?"

"Just what those crazies yack about. Murderous, thousand year-old sentient machines waiting in dark space. I guess the commander relies on ignorance as well as stupidity for those under her command."

It took every fiber in Brandon's body not to stand out of his chair and slam the table. Instead, his jaw clenched a little tighter, "They are real. And they are on their way. It could be another year. Could be another month. Hell, for all I know it could be just another day. But rest assured, they are coming."

"Then let's talk about them. What is their prime directive?" The Rear Admiral's voice was practically dripping with mocking smugness.

"They harvest information. They process the original and then destroy it. They are the end of all things."

"Then why leave a few races to survive, hmm?"

"New races must emerge for the Reapers to continually evolve. They may be A.I., but they are devoid of culture and independent thought. There is no outside the box thinking. They can only evolve through the processing of another race."

The Rear Admiral chuckled before his expression went stern again, "Play up your stories however you want, you were still involved with terrorists. We have every reason to believe you still might part of them, and if that's true, then you'll be answering questions Shepard might not be able to."

"Then why don't you tell me what the evidence is? You couldn't have taken me in without probable cause."

"That was simple. Your ship was flagged."

Brandon quirked his eyebrow at that, "I thought you hated dealing with Spectres?"

"Spectres? Ha! Don't think so highly of yourself. Just an anonymous tip, but it turned out quite credible."

Brandon showed nothing, but had to swallow the lump in his throat. Only two people knew about his ship: Jondum Bau and Cerberus. Out of the two, it had to be the latter. Smart move again, using someone else to track the targets they can't find. Unfortunately, that meant they could be watching him right now. He glanced at the camera. It stayed solidly focused on him other than the intermittent blink of its red light. There was only one door in or out, leaving no other way to escape. His hands were cuffed together in front of him and the Alliance had commandeered his firearm. Of course, Mikhailovich decided to taunt him with that fact as he handled _Excalibur_. As if Cerberus needed more ways to cover their tracks. They could just grab the pistol, shoot the Admiral, put a round through his head, and then make it look like a suicide. Brandon contemplated if that situation was preferable as opposed to watching Mikhailovich smudge his thumbprints on the stainless steel.

"Very nice pistol, I have to say. From the notes by your old company sergeant, you were quite the pistoleer back in the day. Scores of 100 in PQT. Slightly above average in the physical tests. No civilian complaints. No shore-leave incidents. Always on time to muster. You're delightfully average, Davis."

Brandon's teeth gritted tighter at the tone of Mikhailovich's voice.

"However, bringing in personal weapons is a major violation in the Alliance Navy. Apparently, yours were discovered during an off-base training exercise. You made the case that they were personal effects and protected under Alliance rules, but that didn't really work out, did it? Officially, you were put on probation and were refrained from using them in any and all operations in basic. It was because of this violation you were not able to rise past the rank of corporal. This is where things got interesting. You were still allowed to keep them in the first place. Unofficially, from what your peers had shared, you wagered a bet that you could shoot better with your guns than not only your best mark, but the company sergeant's best score. You win, you keep them. Lose, he does."

He tapped the pistol with a mock sense of affection, Brandon merely glaring at him as he retold his life's story.

"Looks like we know how that one went. After basic, you served on the _SSV Tokyo_. Afterwards, you were picked and transferred by then commander Anderson for the _SSV Normandy_. Continued under commander Shepard during her hunt for Saren and the geth. Despite your time present on the ship, you saw no groundside combat. After the Battle of the Citadel, any charges of mutiny were dropped by Alliance command. Like many of Shepard's crew, after her 'supposed' death you decided to quit. Honorably discharged in 2183. Quite the model soldier you _were_," he sneered as he looked over _Excalibur_, "It's a shame to see a career crumble. Was it not exciting enough for you? Decided to be a soldier of fortune? Use your training as a mercenary?"

Brandon said nothing and just kept staring back, not giving an inch.

"You know, when I get to lock you up, this'll look good on my wall. Much better than in that relic of a ship you fly."

Brandon's eyes finally narrowed as he leaned closer to the table and channeled his inner Shepard, "You can insult me all you want, Mikhailovich. But you. Don't. Insult. My ship."

The Rear Admiral smiled, knowing that had gotten under his skin, "It might be scrapped after you stand trial. You do know what the penalty is for treason, Davis? Death."

Instead of some indication of fear or sign of breakage, Brandon was unfazed, "You know… the first time I chose to commit treason, the _Normandy_ saved the Citadel. The second time you suggested I committed treason, I helped save the galaxy from nightmares you couldn't dream of. And, if I supposedly were to do it again, you can bet your stubborn ass it'll be to save what's left of this galaxy. Doesn't matter if I risk my life or do nothing, the penalty is always death. It's just a question of how and why."

A light tapping at the door drew the Rear Admiral from his seat. Unfortunately, Brandon noticed the red light on the security camera had flickered off completely. He bunched up his hands ready for some altercation when Mikhailovich opened the door. Maybe if he leveraged his shoulder, he could flip the table on its side for cover. It could buy him a few more seconds. His body tensed as he readied to charge his body weight, but when he saw who did come through the door, he had to force himself not to laugh.

"I'm in the middle of an interrogation here," boasted Mikhailovich.

"Caleb Antella of Internal Naval Affairs, sir," Kasumi responded with a salute, "I have a message from Admiral Hackett. It's flagged as priority".

She was in a crisp Alliance uniform, her hair pulled back in a bun and all her distinct features covered up. She handed the Rear Admiral a datapad and it didn't long for his face to change colors.

"He wants me to do what!?" He snarled through gritted teeth.

"Release the prisoner. Having been honorably discharged from the Alliance, he can't be court marshaled if he is no longer affiliated. With no hard proof tying him to Cerberus, he demands the captive to be released unless factual evidence has been presented. His signature is on the bottom and comes straight from command."

Mikhailovich looked at her and then turned his attention to Brandon, "Don't expect this to be dropped, boy."

The Rear Admiral left first and Kasumi followed, but not before throwing Brandon a quick wink.

* * *

The greasiest burger in the world was like heaven in Brandon's mouth. Twelve to fourteen hours in captivity with nothing but water had made him work up an appetite. He made a straight path towards the food shops and held no qualms for the guilty pleasure in his hands. It was also out of irritation since the Alliance didn't return his pistol. A safety concern that would take a few days to process. The same reason barred him from returning to his ship. He took another bite and sulked in his own frustrations. Brandon's moment of self-deprivation was interrupted when he noticed a french fry slowly hover into the air on its own accord before suddenly disappearing.

"Am I gonna get a big 'I told you so'?" He asked.

"Just a small one," Kasumi said, still staying cloaked.

He dropped his burger in the wrapper with a long sigh, "Serves me right for thinking the Alliance would have been a safe bet."

"It wasn't a bad idea. Look, we gave it a shot. Now we try Shanxi."

"Shanxi? I would have thought you'd have picked Elysium. Warm weather. Good food. Great security."

"Elysium is a retiree colony. Too boring. Besides, with all the Terra Firma garbage, those bigots are so anti-alien they won't suspect a human stealing from them."

Brandon leaned back in his chair tried to appear casual. Most people passing by were seeing a lone guy eating at a fast food joint, not some recently freed detainee talking to a cloaked thief. Unless, he was being watched for that reason.

"You know if they have eyes on me?"

"Far as I can tell, no. This is the Alliance, they follow procedure like clockwork. They did impound the _Razgriz_, but I think the Rear Ass is trying to get a warrant to search the ship. That's why he's sweating you out a little longer. Personally, I think we should get outta here before anyone learns anything new."

"I'll also need to get my gun back. So what happens now?"

"Tonight, we get a motel. Tomorrow, we get our ship back."

Brandon nodded and looked where he thought her face was, "Thanks for getting my ass out of that one. How did you manage a release form like that?"

"I have my ways. Not the first time I've busted you out of a tight jam," she said quickly with cheeriness layering her tone.

Brandon didn't react the way he normally did. Something about her reaction seemed a bit off. Even putting that aside, it wasn't easy to get a forged signature from the admiral of the entire Alliance fleet. A traced copy was more likely, but an original was still needed. The question was, though, where did Kasumi lift his signature from?

He decided to save that question for later and asked a much lighter one, "By the way, how did you get that Alliance uniform?"

"I borrowed it from the women's locker room."

* * *

An Alliance guard stretched in his chair at his post. Just another day of another morning of the same routine. He took a sip from his hot coffee cup and watched the holoscreen in his small little booth. It was too early for the usual shipments to arrive, so he indulged in his daily intake of Westerlund News.

_"Good morning. This is Khalisah al-Jilani reporting live from the Citadel. In cultural news, there's been a large influx of batarian immigrants to the Citadel. Our resources tell us this could be a ploy by the Batarian Hegonomy in an attempt to be recognized by the Systems Alliance and gain a seat on the Council. It is of no surprise since many batarians feel bitter over humanity being granted a spot in such a short time compared to the other races."_

"Friggin batarians," he scoffed.

"Excuse me, sir," softer voice spoke.

The security guard glanced up from the news and noticed a woman in the grease-stained, messenger overalls. The front zipper was low enough to see a peek of her cleavage glistening from sweat. Her black hair was strung into a ponytail under her cap with her eyes just glancing through to the guard. It wasn't the most glamorous get-up Kasumi had worn, but blending in was her specialty.

"I have parts needed for docking bay one one three, um, eight," she gestured with her thumb to the large crates loaded on a cart behind her.

The guard cleared his throat and was upright and on his feet faster than he had ever been, "I don't think I've seen you on the roster before."

"Just started. Learning trial by fire isn't easy. Been an absolute mess today," Kasumi said as she activated her datapad, "Can you sign here, please?"

The guard exited his booth and started towards the cargo, "Not yet. I have to do an inspection."

"That's not gonna take long, is it?" She asked, laying her frustration hard in her tone, "I'm behind as it is and still need to send stuff over to the yard on the other side of the station."

"You're early. The scanner hasn't even been activated yet. Can you hang out for half an hour?"

"Half an hour? Come on," she glanced at his name tag, "Craig. Look at me. I'm a dirty mess running around like a maniac today."

Despite the act, she made sure she'd stretch her arms and shrugged her shoulders back enough to make her chest look a little more noticeable. It seemed to work with the guard's poor attempt to discreetly fix pants.

"Well, uh, everything looks in order. Your order looks about right with nothing hazardous. I'll wave the scanning just this once."

He signed for the shipment and she confirmed the signature.

"Thanks, Craig. I owe you one."

"Anytime," he said, narrowing his gaze on her backside as she pushed the cart through the gate, "Don't be stranger."

The shipyard was bustling with people. Alliance personnel were conducting repairs and supervising equipment. Other vendors were bringing in service parts. Kasumi casually walked by all of them and proceeded to a dark corner of the loading dock. After checking the coast to be clear, she kicked the heavy crates three times. The top opened and Brandon popped out from one of them.

"So far?" He asked.

"So good," she finished.

Brandon quickly jumped from the storage bin and Kasumi reached inside and grabbed her cloaking suit. Using the crates as concealment, the duo hugged the wall until they reached a service dock into the main facility. Kasumi quickly navigated the nodes of the door lock and in seconds it went green. Considering the high level parties they had crashed in the past, infiltrating an Alliance storeroom was straight forward. The two slipped in undetected and sneaked through the back of a supply room.

"Good idea. I didn't think it'd be this easy," said Brandon.

"Any uniform store will sell you a messenger outfit, and any messenger can get past a security desk. It's the best way to go someplace you're not wanted."

Each step was careful and quiet through the rows of shirts, pants, and coats. They stayed low until they got a glimpse at the front counter. The only person present was a lone requisitions officer seated in a chair.

"I don't see any security cameras in here," he whispered, "but I don't think you can flirt your way outta this one. What do you wanna do-"

Kasumi slowly put her finger to his lips. She removed a cloth and a bottle from one of her pockets. After soaking it in the liquid, she started moving towards the officer, much to Brandon's silent protests. Doing this out of her cloaking suit wasn't a huge deal. The suit itself made things more fun, but she wasn't reliant on it. What she hadn't done before though, was trying to sneak up on someone wearing work boots. Because it was so early, the lone officer was enjoying a little work snooze. It made her movements a little easier when she finally inched behind him.

Despite all the advancements in medicine and technology, chloroform was still invaluable in the underworld. Kasumi tucked the cloth hard on his mouth and nose and kept her other hand over his eyes. The officer went tense for a few moments, but was soon enjoying his short snooze for a little while longer.

Brandon quickly launched over the counter and locked the door, "That's one way to do it."

Kasumi propped the officer's feet up on the counter and folded his arms on his stomach. With some luck, he'd think it was some strange dream.

"He'll be out for a bit. Hopefully we won't be around when he wakes up."

Brandon draped Kasumi's gear on the counter before he started grabbing clothes from off the racks. His companion stripped out of her overalls and slid into her normal gear. By the time Kasumi had suited up, Brandon returned with an outfit, a pair of armor piercing rounds, and, weirdly, numerous packages of black standard issued gloves.

"Brandon, are you actually stealing something?" She asked, bordering between curious and amused.

"Back in my Alliance days we called this 'borrowing'. You know how many times I've ordered something as simple as a pistol mod from these guys and they send me a strength enhancer?"

"I get that, but what's with all the gloves?"

"It's a pain to find gloves when nearly everyone in this galaxy has three digits."

"You forget the asari?"

"Who are monogendered," he countered as he stuffed the items in his pockets, "They don't need to make gloves in men's size."

Kasumi legitimately pondered his logic for a moment as he dressed. Then she just focused on watching him. Oddly, it wasn't him in underwear that held her attention, but what he put on. Brandon was getting into a complete Alliance uniform. Dress blues like most officers. The jacket padded his already broad frame and she noticed how he used captain's ranks on his shoulders. He buttoned all the way up to the collar and it was just way too formal than she was used to, even compared to that time in Bekenstein. It wasn't flashy or brazen, instead, it was refined and dignified. This was something she could tell he'd done a number of times before. Confidence was oozing from him as he stepped into his element. Kasumi knew it was more than just seeing him in uniform. It was the whole package wrapped up in front of her. And she'd be lying if that wasn't something that made her throat dry.

Brandon noticed her almost intense gaze and walked up to her with a sly look on his face. Then he was subject to the most blatant up-and-down she'd ever given.

"We are so having sex tonight."

"Don't objectify me," he said with a smirk.

The duo exited the supply room, closing the door behind them. Kasumi stayed cloaked and shadowed Brandon from behind. She couldn't help but notice how easy it was for Brandon to walk among the Alliance personnel. He fell into old training habits as if he never left the navy. Going from soldier to wanted criminal didn't change someone overnight, but she had to admit, even after all they had been through, Brandon was too good of a person to stop being a soldier. That self-sacrificing persona of his could be his strength and his weakness. She'd never say that in front of him, though, hopefully, her teachings had given him some drive towards self-preservation.

Shortly after, they made their way to the evidence room.

"You can get us in and I can get it while you distract them," Kasumi said.

"Good idea, but let's try this my way for once."

Curiously, she followed him in and watched what he was planning. In the business of thievery, it was always risky to follow a play the other didn't know, and while Kasumi agreed with that theory, she did find the risk more exciting.

"Captain on deck," replied the young private behind the desk up front. He as well as the other men in the room promptly rose and saluted.

Brandon returned the salute firmly, "At ease, men. I'm Captain Spiegel. I need to acquire a few items from a recent detainee, he was under arrest not too long ago. A Brandon Davis. I have a notice to relocate these items, Admiral Mikhailovich's orders."

"Yes, sir," replied the private as he accessed his terminal, "Huh, that's strange. I don't have any request like that in the system."

"I know. Mikhailovich asks and he expects it as soon as it leaves his mouth. That's what happens when you deal with his timeline instead of anyone else's. Is the evidence here?"

"It's present, sir, but I can't authorize it's release without the proper codes."

"Private, the reason it's being moved is because it was vouchered wrong. We need to send it back just to bring it back here again. You know the Alliance, hurry up and wait."

Kasumi watched Brandon's assertiveness and then looked to the private. With only a slight hesitation, he went to the grated storage units and brought up a sealed case. He unlocked the metal box to reveal the unloaded _Excalibur_. After it was resealed and signed out, Brandon tucked the box under his arm and left the evidence room with Kasumi by his side. Even though he couldn't see her reaction, she saw the quirky smile he was wearing.

"You certainly know how to put your Alliance experience to good use."

"Imagine if I stayed."

"I don't. I'm too greedy and selfish to have missed out on you. Now all we need to do is get our ship authorized to depart. But even I know that's going to be tricky."

"I'm not so sure. I ever tell you how Anderson freed the _Normandy_ with a simple punch to Udina's face?"

"Really? Does that mean we get to punch Mikhailovich?"

"I wish, but I think we can pull off something a little less dramatic. If we're lucky they won't even realize we're leaving."

"Uh huh, and what if they do realize we're escaping?"

Brandon looked out the window at the massive warships.

"If they do find out about us, we're going to have to get outta here pretty fast."

"Aren't you the optimist? Well, I guess we can run a loop on the security cameras and try to bypass the clamps on the…"

She realized she was walking next to no one. She turned around to find Brandon had halted dead in his tracks.

"Hey, let me know if you plan to stop. I don't want to be bumping into anybody."

The joke had no reaction as he kept staring through the glass.

"Mommy, mommy! Look!" Exclaimed a small child bouncing on his feet. He was looking out the same window.

"What is it, honey?" A mother in an Alliance uniform asked.

"Look at the red star! It's shining!"

Kasumi peered out the window at whatever was glowing in the distance. It was red, but it wasn't a star. A star didn't slowly grow bigger unless it was dying out and no star in the world grew that fast. Neither could it move left or right. Soon others started gathering to see the anomaly in the distance. Some mesmerized. Others curious… especially when many more 'stars' started to glow across the plane of space.

"What is that?" Kasumi said.

"The beginning of the end," Brandon barely spoke, just before the biggest star flashed and a red beam stretched towards them.

* * *

They're here.

Many thanks to my Beta Maxaro. Also very special thanks to my girlfriend for helping me with technical terms in regards to Alliance jargon. Putting her academy training to good use.


	12. Ch12: How the Gods Kill

"GET DOWN!"

Kasumi tackled Brandon to the deck as the beam sliced through a passing cruiser. It exploded in a flash of fire until all the oxygen had burned up, leaving scattered debris and floating bodies in its wake. In an instant, the normal lights dimmed and red alert warnings flashed down the length of the hallway.

_"Attention, all personnel. Man your battlestations. Civilians, please proceed to designated safe zones."_

The pre-recorded message continued as people went from a casual walk to a full sprint. Kasumi and Brandon had just enough time to share a look with one another. It was more of a mental inquisition that they were both okay, even alive, before they were on their feet and hurrying as fast as everyone else. Armor plating sealed over the glass windows and locked in place, something both of them knew would provide little protection.

"We got to get off this station right now!" Brandon said frantically.

Kasumi had no objections as she followed his lead. She was no longer cloaked, but it didn't matter anymore. Crowds were bunching up like herds of worried cattle. Alliance personnel were rushing to their posts. Anyone non-military were going to protected areas that they practiced for every safety drill. Brandon and Kasumi did neither and were pushing through the crowds as fast as they could.

It wasn't the quickest way to the civilian hangar, but Brandon deliberately drove them away from the outer hull. One wrong hit and the outer bulkheads would be exposed. The further in they were, the better their chances of staying alive. It was Alliance training that Brandon was falling back on, even though Reapers could do far more damage than a slug from a dreadnought. A fact that became very apparent when something managed to shake the station so violently that everyone in the hall stumbled into the walls or fell to the floor.

_"Warning. Structural integretity compromised. Evacuate sections 1 through 4. Bulkhead collapse in 30 seconds."_

The panic managed to supersede its current state and screams steamed from the crowds they left behind. Brandon glanced back to see people charging like a stampede and stepping over, and on, anyone that got in their way. Younger Alliance personnel were running ahead of the civilians as all sense of organization collapsed. There was a real danger of getting caught up in the herd, so Brandon brought them down a corridor back towards the service hallways. If they had any luck left, it would be less crowded by maintenance staff as opposed to the exits more widely known.

_"Bulkhead breach in 20 seconds."_

"This way, this way!" He sputtered as they ran towards the bulkhead seals. They made safe passage to section 5, but Brandon stopped. He was hesitant to run, and then tried to yell back down the hall and flag down anyone else. Kasumi stayed by default though it took effort not to tell him to go.

_"Bulkhead breach in 10 seconds."_

"Come on, come on, come on!" He yelled to a few stragglers piling in. Another massive quake coursed through the ship. A young officer close to the door was struck by a violent spray of sparks from the wires across ceiling. It slammed her to the floor wide eyed with severe burns on her face. Brandon already knew she was dead and was about to seal the hatch…

"Wait!" He heard from the hall. Another group of people turned the corner and was running towards him.

_"Bulkhead breach in… 5…"_

They were still running.

_"4…"_

Brandon hadn't closed the door yet.

_"3…"_

They were so close…

_"2..."_

…but not enough.

_"1..."_

His face contorted in angered sorrow before he pulled the hatch closed and sealed it shut. He could feel the pop from the depressurization through his grip on the handle and hear the oxygen flowing into space, accompanied by faint screams. For some reason, his muscles froze in place. When the _Normandy_ went down, his body didn't shutdown like this. Even while they passed through the Omega-4 relay, Brandon had been given grim reminders of that same day all those years ago, but this… this didn't even come close. This wasn't a frigate. This wasn't an unknown. The might of the Alliance that was getting torn apart around him like it was insignificant. The Reapers had finally come and it was putting fear his veins. The threat always felt like some bad dream, but now it was chasing him.

"Brandon!" Kasumi's voice cut through to him and he let go of his white-knuckled grip. She hoisted him up and he blocked everything else out until they found the hangar.

It was a sight for sore eyes when the _Razgriz_ came into view. Other people were piling into their own ships and escape pods could be seen launching through the bay's mass effect fields. They made it to their dock, but a huge tremor moved through the station like an earthquake. It sent Kasumi tripping and sliding along the floor while Brandon found himself grabbing the railing beside the dock to keep himself from tumbling over.

_"Attention. All personnel, evacuate. Repeat. Evacuate the station."_

Brandon got his footing and was quick to pull Kasumi back up. They hurried across the platform and unlocked the hatch. It was a minor relief to be back aboard, but it left as quickly as it came. Both of them were quickly seated in the cockpit. Kasumi turned on the navigation and communication systems while Brandon flipped every switch for the mass effect core. The engines came on and all systems went green across the board. Brandon wasted no time pulling the stick back… then the ship jerked in place. It didn't move. The wireframe readouts on the computer flashed repeadtedly revealing the locking clamps hadn't disengaged and were still holding the ship in place. Normally, it was simply a matter of pressing a button to order them to retract, but there was no signal coming to the ship to grant that access. Even in emergencies there was an override… unless that option had been disabled prior.

"Shit!" Brandon growled out, remembering the ship had been grounded.

"What's wrong?" Kasumi asked.

"It's stuck."

"What!?"

"The clamps are frozen. We're stuck."

He tried again and put full force on the microthrusters and wing vectors. They were pushing hard, but the clamps wouldn't let up.

"Son of a bitch! Stay here," he ordered, leaving his chair.

"Where are you going!?"

"The clamps aren't going to release. I need to manually bypass the safeties."

Brandon ran down the length of the ship and stopped at one of the metal panels on the wall. He gripped at the edges and yanked it off. Beneath it was an array of thick wires that he started sorting through. All ships had safety features to automatically prevent the main engine boosters from throttling when docked at a port. That was how the _Normandy_ was grounded and why it couldn't be deactivated from the ship. Luckily, on a boat as old as his, he guessed a way around it. Being built pre-Council, not to mention military designed, things were cruder and easier to manipulate. He found the wire he needed and tugged off the casing. A spare wire clipped to the exposed area and was connected around the safety circuit; effectively hot-wiring the sequence to fool the computer.

"We're good. Kasumi, get us out of here!"

He ran back up to the cockpit and hoped that did the trick. Kasumi was in the captain's chair and started to feather the main throttle. The engines started to vibrate through the ship as it slightly nudged forward, but it didn't move more than an inch.

"Give it more," he said.

Kasumi pushed the throttle further, bringing them to 10% thrust, "It's still not budging."

A loud noise cut through the ship. It was like some distorted air horn that caused both of them to stare out the windows. A Reaper approached that seemed to get bigger with each passing second, or maybe it was just the biggest compared to the others around it. Cannon rounds hit its shell yet the damage it received was miniscule. Most worryingly for Brandon, there was something awfully familiar about it.

**YOUR EFFORTS ARE POINTLESS.**

The voice thundered through the _Razgriz's_ speakers.

**YOUR KIND WILL FALL. ALL WILL FALL. IT IS THE INEVITABLE. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR DESTINY.**

Then something happened. Something that made Brandon question if he was paranoid or losing his mind. The Reaper tilted towards the ship and it was if it's 'eyes' were staring straight at him.

**BUT FOR THE MINIONS OF SHEPARD…**

The yellow glowing 'veins' throughout Harbinger's, for it could only be 'him', body turned red and then the center of Harbinger's core grew into a massive ball of energy.

**…YOUR TIME HAS COME. **

"Go. Go! GO!"

Brandon pushed Kasumi's hand, and subsequently the throttle, fully forward. The ship's thrusters burst with fire in the oxygen filled bay. The clamps groaned in protest as the metal bent and crumbled from the pressure before the angle joints of the arms popped and shattered apart. Wires peeling from the station swung the ship towards the walls of the hangar until they snapped like a whip, allowing the _Razgriz_ control to rocket from its dock.

Brandon switched places with Kasumi and he piloted them through the hangar bay. He was breaking every rule in dock space. The _Razgriz's_ travel speed far exceeded the minimum allowed, but his respect for rules was nonexistent at the moment. There was no communications coming in from the Tower. Maybe comms were down or maybe it had been destroyed, it didn't really matter. One thing was for certain, though, Brandon wasn't going to stop for anything. His palms were sweating and his senses were on overdrive. Going straight into the space skirmish would be suicide, so he tried to fly the length of the docking bay and the shipping yard to give the furthest departure from Arcturus-

"Brandon, look out!"

An Alliance fighter flew spinning out of control from their nine o'clock. The _Razgriz_ pushed down and left as it soared past, crashing into the side of the hangar. Missing the one ship put him on a crash course with a docked crusier below. He pulled hard on the stick but still scrapped the _Razgriz's_ belly along the ship's hull. The impact jostled and bounced them off like a dodgeball. It threw the compensators off, putting them into a spin on its axis. Brandon had to use the vector thrust to stop its spin. The ship's diamond shaped wings lit up and burst opposite thursts simulatenously. It did stop the spinning, but it pressed them towards the walls of Arcturus. The right wing scrapped along the side and caused shards of metal from the remains of the forward clamp, still locked onto the ship, to scatter across the vector thruster. It started to sputter slightly, but Brandon just punched the throttle forward to regain their bearing. Another assault had to have hit the station since support beams of the hangar started separating from the ceiling. It turned the flight into an obstacle course of floating rubble that managed to scatter along the gunship, but they ultimately burst out from the station into open space.

"Please tell me all systems are still up?" Brandon asked, not daring to stop looking out the cockpit window for even a second.

"Right wing vector has taken a bit of a beating, but everything checks out. I think the hull is gonna need a lick of paint," she said, the false humor in her tone all too apparent.

Brandon was so focused that he couldn't even pretend to be amused.

Momentarily away from the danger, they were able to get a picture of the skirmish taking place. They may not have been able to hear it, but the light from the distant explosions was unmistakable.

"Dear God," Kasumi said.

The scale of destruction was unfathomable. Arcturus Station had the equivalent of asteroid craters embedded through its circular dome. The docking port on its far side was cluttered with fleeting ships and the wreckage of others. The closest one had been severed in three pieces down its length. The Fifth fleet had been joined by the Second and Third. It hadn't been too long that Brandon had forgotten how to distinguish them apart. The Second fleet sported the old red and white colors since the First Conact War. It positioned itself as the main line against the attacking Reapers and was suffering the most casualties. The dreadnought _SSV Logan_ of the Third fleet had taken position at the rear and pummeled one of the capital ships with its mass accelerator cannon; managing to merely slow the enemy down. Even with the vast amount of Alliance ships, it was nothing compared to the Reapers. They were massive in size, scale, and firepower. One of them extended its 'arm' and a beam sliced through a cruiser's hull and out the other side like its kinetic barriers weren't even on.

Both Brandon and Kasumi were mesmerized by the entire sight. It was the closest they had been to a real Reaper. None of them were exactly alike. Each one was slightly different than the next, as if each had a different 'face' of the species that was harvested into its birth. One's shell was smooth while another's was sharper. Some kept their tentacles closed around their core while others opened up like a grasping hand. No matter what the differences, they were decimating the fleets. So much so that Brandon saw the Fifth and Third starting to pull back.

"They're retreating…" he said without thought.

A priority message came to their ship and Kasumi patched it through.

_"Broadcasting on all emergency channels. Civilian ships with FTL capability retreat to the Citadel. Alliance fleets will ensure safe pass-"_

The line cut to static.

Taking the advice, Brandon redirected the _Razgriz_ towards the mass relay. It was no surprise there were more ships taking the same path. Cruisers, private ships, freighters, they were all trying to make it to the relay and it was obvious how desperate they were. The big ones weren't giving room to the smaller vessels and the fast ones were soaring across anyone and everyone's heading. Worse were the ones spewing fuel or oxygen from holes in its hull. It was everyone for themselves and Brandon was doing his best to avoid getting boxed in, or worse, crushed.

A flash of light wiped across the convoy and a Reaper laser scrapped the frigate beside them. It's front left side exploded and the entire ship started drifting left. It cut across their path and then slammed into the adjacent cruiser. It dug in, causing fire to blow from the hull of the cruiser like a blowtorch.

"Hang on! I'm gonna get us out of this," said Brandon as he pointed the nose the gunship upwards. The _Razgriz_ barreled through the fiery cloud as the windows were splintered with bits of debris, "How're the kinetic barriers?"

"They're fluctuating. I'll try to reroute power from the-!"

Her voice was replaced with a mouth covered shriek when a suffocating body plastered across the glass. Brandon felt his entire body go cold and all his hairs stand up. It was such a quick moment, but he saw the person blink back before he stretched past the ship and out of sight.

"Citadel… Kasumi, we good for the Citadel?" He said, desperately blocking out what he just saw.

"Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah." she said way too quickly.

"Okay," he said mostly to himself.

They approached the relay with the rest of the escaping convoy. As soon as they could, they jetted away as fast as they could from the nightmare on their heels.

* * *

"Welcome to the Citadel. We hope you have a pleasant day."

Brandon didn't respond to the Tower's cheery asari. They came out on the other side with the rest of the escaping ships, though Brandon noticed how some of the more badly damaged ships weren't with them. It was a stark silence in the ship from that point forward. Neither Brandon nor Kasumi spoke as they prepared to land. It felt wrong to do so, given the situation, but Brandon decided to pay well over premium for a private docking space. The public ones were filling up fast and left many ships circling the station. He and Kasumi had plenty of credits for whatever they were still worth. Food and supplies were going to become valued over credits eventually.

The gunship deployed its landing gear and touched down. Before even everything had gone offline, Brandon was already opening the hatch doors.

"I'm gonna make repairs where needed," he said in a robotic monotone.

The first thing he did when stepped onto the station was take a long, hard breath. It wasn't intentional, but it just seemed to be needed.

Initial inspection of the _Razgriz_ made him glad the armor was three times thicker than most modern ships. Again, another perk of pre-Council tech. The curved fuselage sported many dents and scratched paint. The hull received some scorch marks from some of the fires. The rear docking clamp was still locked in just before the engine core. The right vector thruster had taken the most damage. Unlike the fuselage, it was an aftermarket addition. Visually, a gash jutted up and out on the metal of the diamond shaped surface. It'd require cutting a new piece to weld in place. Mechanically, there was no internal damage from the computer readouts, but he'd check it out anyway. A lot of metal shavings had made their way into the thrust mechanisms when they were forced through the debris field of glass, metal, and… bodies. Brandon tried to shove the fresh images out of his head and pressed them into his gut.

He returned inside to retrieve his welding equipment and caught Kasumi on her omni-tool. When she noticed him, she quickly turned it off.

"I'll be back. I'm gonna see what I can find," was all she said before leaving the ship.

"Hey," Brandon called back.

The thief stopped turned around. He couldn't see her eyes, but her body language was tense.

"You be careful, alright?" he said.

She smiled faintly before disappearing. For some reason, it left Brandon feeling very much alone. He carried on and put on his welding mask. The sheared clamp on the rear was what he focused on first. The precise use of the torch would suffice as it flared hot and the fire cut through the remains of the arm. The hefty chunk hit the platform and it's orange edges slowly cooled. As for the little pieces stuck on the hull, a simple crowbar popped them out.

Attention moved to the gash on the wing. He put his crowbar on the top and readied his torch. The damage metal wouldn't be too hard to cut out, but there was some discoloration that made him pause and stare a little closer. On the tip of the sharp metal were brown streaks that tracked down the piece and over the back of the wing. It was dried blood and made the pit in his stomach even more deep. Brandon tried to ignore it, but when he aimed his torch he realized his hand was shaking. The torch fell to the ground like it was covered in pyjak dung. He drew the crowbar behind his shoulders and pulled his arms to try and release the building tension. When that failed, he slowly started to pace with his right hand still clutching the crowbar. His breathing rose and fell until he smacked the vertical piece of metal only to dent it inwards. Both hands now, he hit the metal again. And again. And again. Even when the metal had curled back, Brandon kept smashing the crowbar into his wing harder and faster. It was only when it snapped in two in his hands did he finally stop.

He knocked off his welder's mask and wiped the sweat and tears flowing from his eyes off his face. His body begged for air and forced him to brace himself against wing. The guilt, the frustration, it physically weighed down his shoulders like an elcor crushing him. Three years trying to prevent the Reapers. They knew they were coming, but only a few truly knew and no one else believed them.

Now they'd believe it. He was damn sure of it now.

* * *

The wing remained as it was left. Hours had passed and Brandon lost track of time as he sat silently at his desk. In front of him, both _Arondight_ and _Excalibur_ had been field stripped down to their internal mass accelerators. The armor piercing ammo he took from the supply room was carefully installed. Whenever in doubt about ammunition, if it could cut threw armor then it'll cut through everything else. He was calm and meticulous as he reassembled his weapons. It was a process that was methodical and enjoyable most of the time, but in his current state, it was a way to focus on what was at hand and block everything else out. It was something very in-grained from Alliance training.

The slides were pulled and locked for the new thermal clips, but a strong tapping on the hatch grabbed his attention. Brandon grabbed _Arondight,_ added a clip, and snapped the slide forward. Cautiously, he approached the door with his weapon in hand. The locks were disengaged and the door slid to the side. As soon as he was sure it was Kasumi, he relaxed his grip.

"How bad is it out there?"

He barely finished his sentence as Kasumi stormed in.

"Unless you were in the docks, you wouldn't believe the Reapers were here!" She spat with an anger he hadn't heard from her before, "I mean how can these people still walk around their lives and ignore what's coming!?"

"I'm sure it's just a communications blackout. The Alliance is stubborn and will rely on themselves before they ask help from the Council. Just calm down-"

She whirled around in his direction, "I just saw thousands of people vaporized in front of me! Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Don't you dare say that to me like I wasn't there!" He yelled back.

After their echoes stopped, the ship became silent. Brandon looked away in shame. He didn't mean to snap at her as much as she did to him.

"I'm sorry. I-"

Kasumi braced herself on the kitchen counter. Her head hung low with quakes rolling through her back.

"Kasumi?"

Brandon approached her and touched her shoulder. She turned around and he pushed her hood back. Then he could clear see the streaks of tears that had moved down her face before she walked in.

"Kasumi, what's wrong?"

She took a small breath, "They just hit Earth."

* * *

Special Thanks to my beta Maxaro. Yeah... things just went from bad to worse.


	13. Ch13: A Matter of Trust

Palaven was hit shortly after Earth. Followed by Illium. Then Irune. As the days turned into weeks, the flow of information became increasingly sporadic. Private communications were often unreliable and even the best servers and comm buoys were strained as military priority superseded all other channels.

Brandon didn't leave the ship much, if at all really, and spent his time parked next to the radio. It would take a miracle to get someone on line. Didn't matter if he increased the output, he couldn't reach anyone he knew. When he resorted to the short wave frequency, he wished he let it be. Cries and distress calls bombarded the signal traffic. Sometimes from Earth. Sometimes from refugees begging to board the Citadel. The Control Towers were doing their best to keep up with the influx of ships, but even the Citadel could not house planets worth of ships. After a while, some of the voices he'd come to recognize became less and less frequent. He hoped it was because they received a docking pass. It was better than the more likely alternative.

The ship's hatch opened and in came Kasumi with a loudly clinking box.

"The liquor store had a special on bourbon," Kasumi said. Brandon didn't so much as smirk from the news and she had to hide her frown. She put the box on the counter, but had to use her elbow to nudge the trash that had accumulated. Much of the kitchen had fallen into disarray from the many leftovers of orders placed through take-in. Empty cartons of the closest equivalent of Chinese food, though in reality they were flavored noodles, were scattered about. Kasumi didn't want to ask for him again to clean it up when he said he'd clean up last night's meal. In reality, it was from five days ago.

"Any news about Shepard or Anderson or… hell anyone?" She asked.

"From what little I gathered, Anderson is on Earth leading a resistance movement. Reports were confirmed that the _Normandy_ was sighted fleeing Earth when the Reapers hit three weeks ago. The most recent was it was spotted around Tuchanka. Something about a krogan war summit. That was five days ago."

"Tuchanka? That's a ray of good news. The krogan won't bother with any political crap. From what you told me about Wrex, he's probably the only one prepped for this thing."

She entered the cockpit and watched Brandon turn through the channels, just like she had watched the night before and the ones before that.

"What about you?" He asked, still not turning his attention from the radio, "Hear anything?"

"Lots of discount sales in the retail stores. Saw an asari with a handful of dresses like she thought it was the end of the world," she scowled.

Brandon ignored how possible the last part of that statement really was, "It's the time for shopping. Just people trying to get a jumpstart on gifts or holidays or… whatever there is to celebrate."

The hopelessness in his voice must have been apparent because Kasumi cupped his cheek and turned him away from the radio. Her other hand switched off the power.

"Brandon-chan, you've been cooped up in this ship too long. Take a walk, get some air, huh?" She said in a gentle, comforting tone, planting a kiss on his forehead, "I'll clean up while you're gone."

Brandon breathed out a heavy sigh and nodded weakly, "You… you're right. Maybe a walk to the Presidium wouldn't be too bad…"

She patted him on the back as he pushed himself away from the console. A quick sniff and he realized his shirt had absorbed more sweat than a quarian's envirosuit. The smelly garment was stripped in favor of a clean white one, but he hesitated putting it on. He left the shirt to the side and grabbed his Aegis vest. He strapped it to his chest before buckling his gun leather. Then he put on his shirt, followed by his long, frock coat.

Now somewhat respectable, he checked both _Arondight_ and _Excalibur's_ thermal clips. Their slides snapped forward and they were both holstered with their safeties on. He checked his omni-tool and ensured his personal barriers were at full function. It was nothing compared to the capacitors on battle armor, but it saved him plenty of times. And, considering the last few months, he wasn't taking anything even remotely close to chances.

"Message me on the private channel for any reason, got it?" Brandon said.

"Don't worry, handsome. I'm a big girl," Kasumi chuckled.

Brandon walked right past the hatch and gave her a small, but so very tender kiss on her lips, "I know."

He could almost hear a small, inaudible gasp from her before she playfully pushed him away, "Go on. Oh, if you're hungry, swing by Apollo's café. Saw they had a steak sandwich special."

* * *

The transit car stopped and it was a bit of a shock when he stepped out. Everything was beautiful. The water was clear, the fake sky was bright, and the trees were green. It did feel like a haven from the outside world, but Brandon knew better than to fall into that trap. Though a part of him really wished he could. An asari and a human woman held hands like it was a normal stroll. A turian sat on a park bench and looked out over the view. Brandon followed his gaze to the blooming demael flowers. They were a wonderful array of orange and violets right at the base of… the miniature mass relay. All good feelings vanished as he continually stared at what he knew as the Conduit.

"Three fucking years," he said to no one, "The Protheans didn't have that. They didn't even know they were coming. We did. We had three years to prepare. Ships? Guns? No, all we made was Blasto 6."

Again, it was nothing but frustrations. The whole point was to try and relax, so he heeded Kasumi's advice, which led him to Apollo's café. Some of the few things that never failed to make him relax were food and alcohol, and now was the time to enjoy it. The beginning of the war meant a surge in aid and personnel, but from what Liara said about the Prothean war, those supplies would dwindle before long. He pushed those lingering thoughts to the side and took a seat at the counter, and a moment of pleasant surprise came when he was greeted by a familiar face.

"Well, if it isn't the turian nose buster," quipped the asari bartender.

"Good to see you too, Aethyta. How the hell did you go from Illium to the Citadel?" He asked.

"Reapers," she laughed bitterly.

"Guess that's the answer to most questions these days. You look good."

"Yeah, well, you look a lot less angry than last time I saw you."

She hadn't forgotten his outburst at Eternity. Admittedly, neither had he, "Yeah… sorry about that."

"Eh, that ass had it coming. Just not used to seeing you lose your cool like that. Guess it's always the quiet ones. But enough of that. What can I get ya?"

"Just the special. And, if you can, the usual?"

She wasn't gone long before a plate of desirable meat was placed in front of him. While it probably would have been better called a 'French Dip' rather than a steak sandwich, the smell was intoxicating, and he could feel the bread crunching under his large bite. And the beef was real.

"You're a saint," he mumbled as he severed the continuing strand of provolone cheese from the sandwich, "Figured you would have gone back to Thessia."

"Citadel seemed the safest place. Besides, if there's one thing people need at times like this it's alcohol," said the Matriarch as she fixed his drink.

The food landed in the bottom of Brandon's gut and he could feel his energy returning, "Amen to that, sister."

Aethyta dropped a sphere of ice into a tumbler. What followed was a sugar cube, three bitters, and generous pour of bourbon. To complete the cocktail, it was garnished with an orange slice.

"One old fashioned, just like the old days," she smiled, placing the glass in front of him.

He took it in earnest and the sweet taste just slowed him down. It was a little sense of normalcy that had been vacant for months. Kasumi was right, he needed a break.

"I'm telling you. Shepard is back," Brandon overheard from a table behind him. A quick glance revealed two turians and a human. Some bore the scars from a battle they had come from and their military uniforms that had seen better days, but their demeanor was significantly upbeat.

"I heard she came back to life out of sheer badassness," said the human with a bandage over his neck, "I had a friend who claimed she drank a krogan under the table."

Brandon hid his chuckle behind his glass, wondering if that was one of her bets with Wrex.

"Quit being an idiot," one of the turians said, "From what I heard, she faked her death and went underground before the Alliance caught her six months ago. When the Reapers hit Earth, she busted herself out of jail and stole her ship from the Alliance. Now she's gone rogue, but she's still taking the fight to the Reapers head on. We're talking renegade, lone wolf stuff."

"Really? I thought the Alliance put her in charge of some task force. Wasn't she putting together a team of the strongest fighters in the galaxy or something?" Said the other turian, wearing a bandage around his left arm.

"What's the good of a handful guys against the Reapers?"

"Supposedly, there's some station beyond the Omega-four relay that controls the Reapers," the wounded turian explained, "They are going to sail through and destroy the base which will disable every Reaper. The rumor has it they are just robots being controlled by the Collectors."

"Collectors? I'd believe the Reapers were another bastard quarian creation gone wrong. Or maybe some salarian experiment. Those guys are always nuts."

"You're both wrong," the human cut in, "I had a friend at Purgatory who was trying to find a way to improve the power grid for the club and out of the blue Shepard approached her with the schematics. In her hand, like… like she read her mind or something…"

"Now, that's varrenshit," dismissed the other turian, "She has a galaxy under attack. You think she'd waste time with small matters like that?"

"You think she can do that? I mean, read people's minds?" The wounded turian asked.

"With all this talk about indoctrination, I'm wouldn't deny it," said the human, "Buddy of mine said she had a vision that this was going to happen years ago."

"Reminds me of those Rachni. Probing people's brains and shit. When it comes to mind melding, I'll stick to a night with an asari."

They all laughed as the conversation steered towards women. People talked apparently. After the Battle of the Citadel, Brandon remembered how many questions he was asked about the infamous Shepard, the tall tales and the real ones.

"Brandy. Double filtered. [tsk] And a lovely cocktail for the lady on my left."

A volus had waddled up to the counter and hoisted himself on the high stool. The young human lady sitting on the stool beside him was taken back. Brandon had to respect the very blatant attempt to pick her up. One thing he'll give the volus, he had confidence or a bloated ego that could rival the size of his suit.

"Uh, thanks," replied the lady.

"It's my pleasure. [tsk] And believe me, I can provide much more if you desire."

Nope, it was just the ego.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not into… that," the young lady said, trying to give the hint she wasn't interested.

"You should reconsider," the volus continued, "When our muscular allies wipe out the Reapers, I will be rolling in credits and future ex-wives."

"So you're making money off this war?" She asked with a mix of curiosity and contempt.

"Rupe Elkoss, pleasure to meet you."

"... of Elkoss Combine?"

"That's the one. Elkoss Combine sells weapons, armor, and funeral services. If you can arm them and bury them, you never have to fly coach."

A glass hit the bar hard with the ice bouncing within. It startled both patrons, and each watched Brandon whirl around his chair.

"Hey, asshole! Right now the turians and the Alliance are dying for you!"

The young lady took her chance to retreat from the café while the volus waved a dismissive hand.

"I'll send the Alliance a card. As for the turians, well, I pay my taxes."

Volus or not, Brandon wanted to get to eye level and punch him square in the vocalizer, but in the corner of his eye Aethyta slowly shook her head. Brandon expelled a frustrated sigh to calm his nerves, though not his distaste.

"You're disgusting," he spat.

"No, disgusting would be the tax rates for doing business on Thessia. If I wanted to get screwed by the asari I would have returned Benezia's calls-!"

Elkoss catapulted across the floor into a pile of mangled chairs and tables like a bowling ball striking pins. The biotic aura that had flared around Aethyta was still pulsing and the dark look on her face made even Brandon's hairs stand on his neck.

"You!" Yelled Elkoss, "How dare you! [tsk] I'll have C-Sec write you up for-"

"You leave. Right now," she said with a barely controlled wrath.

The volus stared up at the biotic bartender, watching Brandon as he revealed the twin pistols under his coat, and only now noticed quite a number of Alliance marines and turian soldiers in the cafe. All well aware of his boasts and all of them giving him glares that made him feel smaller than he already was.

For a race that seemed to hobble around, it was the fastest a volus had ever ran.

"That son of a bitch," Aethyta cursed. She grabbed the nearest glass, filled it with straight bourbon, and it was gone in one gulp.

"You alright?" Brandon asked.

"No. I'm taking my break," she said plainly before storming into the back of the café.

"How is there trouble every time I find you, Mr. Davis?"

Brandon's hand was already discreetly on the grip of his pistol when he recognized the voice behind him.

"That's not going to be necessary," cautioned Jondum Bau. The Spectre took the seat formerly occupied by Elkoss and ordered a drink from the replacement bartender. Admittedly, Brandon had released his grip on his gun, but his fingers tapped on it out of habit.

"Drinking on the job, Bau?"

"After the incident on Sur'Kesh, I don't give a damn," he said and, uncharacteristically, shot back the alcohol, "I need assistance. Your girlfriend got in contact with me-"

Brandon instantly downed the rest drink and paid his tab.

"Let's go," he said.

"Pardon?"

"It's the Citadel, these walls have ears. You have a safe spot?"

Bau left a credit chit on the table and lead the way to the nearest elevator. The ride up was a quiet one, but not tense. Both knew the other well enough to quell any suspicious thoughts. They arrived at the embassies and Bau brought him to the Spectre Information and Processing Center. At first glance, it was very familiar to the Shadow Broker's lair. Not as extensive, but certainly evident that the Spectres had undisclosed access to an abundance of information. If only they had the budget to supply weapons. That being said, the gun range quickly impressed the soldier. Both men walked in and sealed it shut behind them.

"If this keeps loud noises in, it should keep eavesdroppers out," Bau said.

"Yeah, but just for good measure," Brandon grabbed the ear protection on the table and withdrew his firearm, "How's your grouping?"

The reaction from the STG operative was the slimmest of a smile. He put on his own ear protection and aimed his Predator downrange. Despite the seriousness of the meeting, when the targets presented themselves Brandon eagerly fired a cluster of controlled shots to get the jump over the Spectre.

"Alright. What's going on?"

"It's what could be described as a diplomatic incident," Bau said after planting five shots into the target's center mass, "Miss Goto sent me highly classified Alliance data about an unsanctioned raid on a batarian research lab on Khar'shan. It was nearly two years ago and the tech in question was reaper based."

Brandon fired a fast array at the midsection before his last round landed a headshot, "Reaper tech? How much?"

"More specifically, a Reaper corpse," Bau answered while firing another volley, "It was dubbed the Leviathan of Dis and transported to the Batarian Hegonomy. Like much batarian information, it was erased without a trail. Even STG couldn't turn up any evidence. It took a criminal hacker to discover it… Keiji Okuda."

At that, Brandon paused during his reload and looked directly at the Spectre, "Keiji Okuda?"

"Yes. While I was tracking him down I knew he uncovered something big. Alliance, Spectres, mercenaries, the Shadow Broker, even your friend the Illusive Man, they were all after him."

Brandon's brow narrowed as he aimed downrange, "You mean the both of them."

"No. Keiji never told Kasumi how much pressure was put on him. She never knew and he made it clear it was him and only him with that info."

Brandon fired his entire clip in a steady frustration before the slide locked back, "It wasn't just the info? He deliberately exposed himself to save her?"

The salarian nodded as a new thermal clip was reloaded into his pistol, "By sheer luck, it was Hock that found him first. The weapons dealer didn't know what he had, only that it was valuable and he wasn't stupid enough to advertise until he knew what it was."

Another volley of rounds from both marksmen echoed in the space and ripped through the targets.

"This brings us to the more serious problem. The batarians may have had a number of resources to study the Reaper, but they needed people familiar with the tech. Any transmissions to the Council races would have raised flags, so they made connections to the hanar to avoid suspicion. The rumor has it they used their connection with the Protheans to feed interest in the project."

Brandon grumbled under his breath and sent three shots at his target's head, key holing one of them, "So that means indoctrinated agents?"

"Correct. From what we gathered, they were the cause of the batarian's defense faltering when the Reapers hit. The higher ups were massacred, leaving the Hegonomy in disarray. All traces of the indoctrinated spawns are considered dead."

The last shots from both pistols rang out. They reloaded their weapons, holstered them, and removed their ear protection.

"I hear an 'except one' coming along," said Brandon.

"The only known survivor is now a hanar diplomat who oversaw the project from the hanar's side."

"So we have an indoctrinated hanar wandering around? What kind of security breach can we expect from one jellyfish?"

"He has access to high level clearances. Civil, defense, military. The possibilities are catastrophic to irreparable damage. We need to figure out who it is."

Brandon looked at Bau with a newfound respect. Not so much that he was a good Spectre, but he was one of the few people who knew the stakes of the Reapers and their capabilities.

"So what's the plan?" Asked Brandon.

Jondum brought up his omni-tool, "I don't have a public name and the hanar will go to ground if I make a formal inquiry. I've been tracking suspicious transmissions to the hanar homeworld. I should be able to gather some names that would narrow down who it could be, but I need another colleague to extract it. I forwarded you my communication frequency, so we can stay in contact."

Brandon nodded in agreement, "So we're going hunting. But why come to me?"

"You could say the wire tap wasn't exactly… ethical. Even for a Spectre."

"But why come to me and not Kasumi?"

"You understand what the Reapers are capable of and managed to elude capture just as well as your partner," Bau said, but realized Brandon was still waiting for the real answer, "She would make it personal, and I didn't want to get Kasumi further involved in this."

Brandon could have sworn he saw a mirror of his old self reflected in the salarian. It was exactly what he would have done for her prior to the Collector base.

"Hey, wait."

Jondum stopped from the exit and turned around as the targets were retracted. Brandon held his up and waited for the Spectre to do the same. Side by side, Jondum's had a near perfect group at center and head while Brandon's had a reasonably tight group with one to one and a half centimeters between shots. No surprise he was still beat out by a Spectre.

"Good score," Brandon genuinely complimented, "See if you try that with a bit more power behind it next time."

"You humans, always thinking bigger is better. A Predator, planted right, will do just fine."

"Stopping power, Bau. You are going to need it with what we're up against."

The salarian smiled again as they exited the armory. They parted ways from the Spectre Center and Brandon located the hanar embassy.

_"Check. Check. Davis, am I coming in clear?"_

"Yeah, Bau. I'm just outside the hanar's office."

_ "Good. Try to avoid getting seen and access their terminals."_

"What will I be looking for exactly?"

_"I'm hoping for any suspicious transactions, data usage outside the norm…"_

"... so we have no idea."

_"I'm hoping we'll know it when we see it, Davis."_

Brandon shook his head and assessed the situation. He wasn't nearly formal enough to pass as a human dignitary and the C-Sec guards would notice someone blatantly hacking the hanar's door. Then there was the problem of the hanar in the office. Normally, he would provide the distraction for Kasumi to sneak in. In this case, he was on his own. He tapped his chin before bringing up his omni-tool.

"Hey, is this Ray's? Yes, I'd like an order for delivery."

It was not long before stocky volus made his way up the stairs and knocked on the doors of the hanar embassy. A hanar appeared from room and motioned downward at the delivery person.

"What may this one ask is this?"

"Earth Clan Ray's Pizzeria. [tsk] I have one large cheese pizza and an order of fried calamari."

"This one does not recall ordering sustenance. And what is calamari?"

"Fried [tsk] tentacles."

It was hard to tell if the hanar was shocked or not, but the sight of the fried squid seemed to quake his glowing body.

"This one is shocked by your delivery. Does this one look like it devours its own?" The hanar said, albeit quite loudly.

"Uh, I just deliver the food-"

The hanar closed the distance between itself and the volus, just enough time for Brandon to slip unnoticed into the office and he wasted no time jumping on the hanar's terminal.

"Bau, I'm in and I have some possible hits. Got some strange money transfers on Bolohn, and Oloon is sending a lot of data."

_"Bolohn is clean. His money transfers are to support his mistress. Not sure about Oloon. I'll pull his bio."_

"I'll check Oloon's personal records and pull his recent messages. Wait… Bolohn has a mistress?"

_"An asari poet. To be honest, I think he was pressured into it to improve relations with Thessia."_

"His government approves with him having an affair with an asari poet?"

_"No. They'd fire him if it became public. They're a paradoxical culture."_

"Heh. Tell me about it," Brandon chuckled as he continued to access files pertaining to Oloon.

"How am I supposed to know your second cousin was a squid? " Brandon overheard from outside the door. He knew his time was running out, so he sped up his search. Luckily, it didn't take too long; the e-mails and accounts were far too easily accessible if the hanar had been hiding something.

"Oloon's doing some heavy lobbying for the hanar to support the war effort."

_"So he's clearly not indoctrinated. Who's opposing him?"_

"An unnamed hanar recently posted here from Kahje. Not much else is here. I'll hit the docks and check transit records for incoming hanar."

_"Good idea. There shouldn't be many new arrivals here. They are a mildly xenophobic species."_

"Xenophobic?"

_"I could use a more polite term, if you prefer. Private? Reclusive?"_

"It's a just a bit more blunt than I expected."

_"I did say 'mildly'."_

Brandon was quickly off the terminal and leaned his ear on the wall of the door.

"I only make ten credits an hour-"

"This one believe it is ten credits too much, you lowly cretin," the hanar interrupted, "This one demands to know who made such an order."

Brandon strained his ear against the wall and listened as their voices drifted further away. After a few tense seconds, he opened the door to see the hanar further advancing on the volus with C-Sec close behind. It immediately caught the attention of one of the officers and Brandon quickly exited the office and approached him.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, the food at Apollo's is making me wish I stayed with the Alliance. If you have any pity on me, you'll tell me where the rest room is. This is the third office I ended up wandering into and none of them have a private bathroom."

The officer glanced at his turian partner, who shrugged dismissively, and responded, "Down the hallway, to the left. If you see the balcony, you went too far."

Brandon responded with a frantic nod and hurried towards the public restroom. As soon as he was through the door, a massive sigh left his lungs.

"Quick thinking," a familiar voice chimed.

Brandon nearly leaped out of his skin, "Gah! The hell… how long were you watching me?"

The outline of Kasumi formed as her cloaking device shutdown.

"Long enough," she responded curtly, "Now, when were you going to tell me you were doing a mission with Bau?"

"I don't know. How about after you told me you were forwarding him Alliance op reports?" He countered firmly.

"Well, you weren't supposed to find out. I was expecting him to ask me for help."

"So it was supposed to be you heading off alone with no backup against an indoctrinated squid? When did you find all this out?"

Brandon did nothing to hide the harshness in his tone, but Kasumi was outwardly unfazed.

"On Arcturus. While you were captured I tried to see if there were any recent flags on Cerberus. As I was searching through their classifieds, I stumbled across a program called Task Force Aurora. I remembered that name when I entered Keiji's greybox, so I did some digging. It had been authorized by Admiral Hackett to study any rumors or legends regarding the Reapers."

Brandon folded his arms, "That's where you copied Hackett's signature for my release form. His handcock was on the classifieds."

"It was a happy accident. They had encrypted files on the incident and I pieced it together from what I saw from Keiji's memories. After the Reapers hit, it was big enough to leak it to Bau."

"And that's where you went when we landed first day," Brandon surmised, "That's just great."

"It wasn't a big deal. I've been doing this most of my life. I didn't want you to worry-"

She couldn't finish before he cut her off, "That's not the point. I'm supposed to worry. The point is why keep me in the dark? I mean, what else am I not supposed to know? I remember with certainty you told me the info on the greybox was wiped out, or was that a lie too?"

Her eyes widened before furrowing with anger.

"I had to erase our memories, don't you dare think I'd lie about that," she warned, but suddenly became aware she said 'our' and not 'his' memories. Apparently, Brandon caught that too because she had to watch him briefly break eye contact. She deliberately moved into his line of sight.

"This data was what made Keiji infamous. It was too risky."

"Risky?" He said the word with such disbelief, "When has that stopped anything we've done? How would I be in any less danger?"

She her silence said more than she could have said.

"Unless you were making sure it was just you, and not me," he probed.

She dodged the questioninging and started for the door, "This isn't the time for this conv-"

Kasumi then found Brandon in her path, blocking her only way out in every sense of the word.

"Damn it. Would you stop sneaking around me and just say why didn't you tell me!?"

"Because Keiji DIED because of this! I wasn't going to get you killed too!"

"And? You not Keiji either."

"But I can avoid them if they came after me. I'm not gonna watch you die in my arms like he did… like you almost did on Omega."

"So you thought this was the only way to protect me? You really think I couldn't do this?"

"No, I don't!"

It just came out and all the air in the room grew heavy. Kasumi saw Brandon's scrunched expression fall to despair from the obvious stab through the heart. She could see the sadness in his eyes, yet Brandon wasn't given that luxury. Instead, he just saw the empty shadows under her hood, ones she deliberately were making. Neither said anything, Brandon simply turned around and walked out the door.

_ "Davis, there a problem? Your communications have been silent for a long moment."_

"Fine, Bau. I'm heading for the next set of records," he replied as he stormed down the hall.

* * *

The only way to access the transit records was to go to the docking center. However, as more and more people sought protection at the Citadel, it slowly became a refugee center. It had grown exponentially as each ever increasing world was attacked by the Reapers. Hearing about it was one thing, but actually setting foot into the bay… it was a startling sight. People were sleeping across chairs and huddled under blankets. Small groups were holding each other. Some had luggage while others had only the clothes on their back. If that was any indication of where they came from, some looked like they ran through mud and blood to get to a transport.

Lines had lengthened from the dock personnel services as people tried to acquire spots for their ships. Brandon watched a man practically beg for a spot for his family. It made him feel dirty that the _Razgriz_ was in a paid port that he could afford to stay for a considerable amount of time.

The sound of a weeping woman tore his attention from the lines. His steps were slow as he took in the sight in front of him. At any other point in time it would have been just a plain, bare wall. Now, it had been cluttered with hundreds if not thousands of photographs. Every one of them contained a single face, sometimes a bright smiling one, of a salarian, turian, batarian, asari, human, volus, hanar, elcor, quarian, krogan, drell, or even a vorcha. They were all missing persons. These weren't holopictures or vid screens; these were printed photos.

In 2186, standing on a technological marvel, this was what people had resorted to in order to find their friends or family. The crying woman was by herself as she ran her hands over the picture of a young boy who couldn't have been more than seventeen. The Reapers didn't discriminate against gender or race; they killed them just the same.

Brandon looked back at the people who were still alive, though that term was questionable. The hopelessness was present in so many of their faces and it was obvious that many were teetering on the edge of despair. The morale was fragile at best. Didn't matter if it was military or civilian, wounded or homeless, this was where the results of the war really showed its colors; buried deep in the Citadel like a festering wound. What stirred his anger most was that anyone above would ignore them by just looking the other way.

"Such a shame to see so much pain and suffering," a brown robed batarian said, apparently to Brandon.

"Yes it is," he replied before turning to leave.

"Excuse me, friend," a batarian cleric greeted, holding out his hand, "Could you spare-"

"I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood today."

"Please," the cleric persisted, "I'm collecting donations for the victims of Aratoht."

The name of the colony stopped the human from his escape.

"The entire Bahak system was wiped out in the worst tragedy in batarian history. I'm an affiliate with the Brotherhood of Kree and our group is trying to provide some support for the families of those lost. Any donation would be most appreciated."

That was just more salt to the multiple open wounds he was sporting. Between Bau, Kasumi, and this place, he just wanted to hit something. And now guilt on top of his already strained mental state. It was why, against his better judgement, he handed over one of his credit chits.

"Here's fifty. Make sure it's put to good use."

The batarian smiled very broadly and clasped his hands together, "Thank you very much. May the Word bring you guidance in these times of need."

The cleric humbly walked off and Brandon was slightly bemused to the soft spoken nature of the batarian. Half because of his religious nature and the other half because he was actually polite to someone not of his species. Very strangely, the cleric walked passed a cargo hold where another batarian, a preacher of sorts, was speaking. Brandon assumed they were the same order. Brandon thought to ask the preacher, but the further he looked, he was given the gruesome realization that the entire cargo hold was full of batarians in various stages of condition. Some were being treated by nurses in plain clothes while others just laid on makeshift cots, made of shipping crates. It became worse when another cargo hold beside them was full of turians in much the same shape. Curiosity got the better of him and Brandon approached a C-Sec officer sitting at his desk.

"Excuse me, what are these wounded doing here? Shouldn't they be at the hospital?"

"You just get here?" The red-marked turian commented.

"You could say that."

"Hospital is strained for space and personnel. This is the only place for these poor bastards."

"Aren't they military?"

"I couldn't tell you, I've seen a bit of everything," the officer said with an obvious tense of his talons, "Just an absolute mess."

Brandon glanced back at the wounded. Older medical machines were being used to monitor some of the more severely wounded. There were layers of blood on the ground to suggest that it had dried before the next patient was tended to. The more gruesome work seemed to be taken further to the rear so some semblance of privacy could be attained.

"Some of those wounds are going to get worse," he said solemnly.

"I'll put it this way, human, the morgue staff have been coming down here more often than sending bodies up to them."

"Hey, you little brat! That's my spot!"

The bellow came from a krogan at the far end of the bay. It was directed at a little blonde teenager who couldn't have been more than sixteen and it was obvious from the shock on her face that she'd never met a krogan in her life.

"I-I'm… I'm sorry… I'm j-just waiting for my parents…"

Before she could finish, he snatched her arm and yanked her up.

"You'd best be on your way, you pathetic little pyjak."

That was when the red-faced officer rushed over to the altercation.

"Hey! You take your hands off that girl right now!" The turian snarled in the bully's face.

The krogan maw twisted into a small grin and slammed the girl into the metal deck.

"See? Like you asked. I'm sure your kind are getting pushed aside just as easily on Palaven."

A low growl emitted from the turian before he decked the large reptile across his face. The krogan sneered and grappled with the officer. The blood-raged brute nabbed the officer's pistol and kicked him to the floor.

The krogan spit the blood out of his mouth before aiming the pistol, "You metal faced f-"

He stopped moving when cold steel pressed ever so hard into the back his skull.

"Drop it," Brandon ordered in a low, but stern voice.

_Excalibur_ was pressed just under the armored plating of the krogan's head. It was a spot Zaeed mentioned that a properly placed knife could separate the plates from a krogan's head. Though unsure if it was true, the faint stiffening of the krogan was a positive indicator.

"This is a personal matter," said the krogan as his large head swiveled to the lone human, "you're not even C-Sec, you filthy ape."

"You're absolutely right. Which means I can do this," Brandon replied before turning his gun and slamming the butt of it into the krogan's eye. The eyes were one of the two squishiest parts of any krogan and while the hit did no permanent damage, it stunned and temporarily blinded the massive brute.

The pistol dropped from his hand as he grabbed his throbbing eye. Brandon wasted no time and followed his heel into the krogan's other squishiest part, his quads. The alien's knees immediately buckled and the krogan off his feet and on the floor, and then wincing further at the boot pressed against his neck.

"Get off me!"

Brandon had all his weight on his neck as he kneeled down. He didn't release any pressure as he retrieved the stolen pistol and collapsed it into safe mode, "Listen, friend. There aren't anymore pathetic pyjaks. No metal faces, or filthy apes, or obnoxious in-bred krogan. It's just living versus machine. Take your pick."

"Screw you, human," the krogan growled, trying to push himself up.

Brandon responded by putting his gun back to the krogan's cranium, "You should be more polite to the guy who is keeping your ass from getting shot."

The krogan was slightly confused before glancing at the three C-Sec guards arriving with Eviscerator shotguns.

"Funny from the guy holding a gun to my head," the krogan scoffed, "Who do you think you are?"

Brandon leaned close so there was no mistaking his words, "I'm no one. But I'll be damned if I let another person down cause I wasn't good enough."

His brown hawk eyes met the thin, slitted pupils of the krogan. As soon as the hulk relaxed, Brandon was off him. What puzzled the krogan more was when the human outstretched his hand to help him up. The krogan stared at it for a moment, grumbled something under his breath, but then took it. There was no way a human could pull up a massive alien, but it was more of a courtesy and a sign of truce.

"What's your name?" Brandon asked.

Again, the krogan was taken aback from the question before replying, "Inamorda."

"Keep a lid on that blood rage, Inamorda. I know what's coming and the enemy needs it more than these people do. Tensions are high enough around here."

Brandon's gun was holstered and he returned the officer his pistol, "Here."

"Thanks," the officer replied before turning to the girl, "You okay?"

"Just a little spooked. Thanks, mister," replied the blonde teenager.

"I said I'd take care of ya, didn't I?"

Brandon slipped past the three Citadel guards who had by now holstered their weapons and prepared to evaluate the situation. The commotion gave Brandon the time he needed to avoid any onlookers while he activated the data terminal for his Spectre friend. Releasing some of his pent up anger felt good, though it was borderline suicidal to try to get in a fight with a krogan with no intention to shoot him. Brandon had to get a lid on his own emotions or things would only get worse.

"Got a list of new hanar arrivals, Bau. Forwarding it to you."

_"Damn. These are all face names. The hanar names from the Alliance raid are soul names. And hanar names are private. There's no public record. Can you get back to their personal communications?"_

"On it. Maybe we'll find names there."

_"We can hope. If a hanar group is opposing war with the Reapers, my suspicious were correct."_

The next stop involved a mass transit to Purgatory. Luckily, Brandon wouldn't have to venture inside the club; the main terminal was just off to the side of the transit depot. It was somewhat normal with pretty low foot traffic compared to the refugee center and most of the ones leaving the club would be too drunk to care what he was doing. The only real problem was two C-Sec officers. The younger of the two had elaborate white facial markings while the gruff, older one had almost charcoal black markings similar to Garrus'. The officers were guarding the outside of the club, but it was more complaining than anything.

"I hate being stuck here. I hate this guard duty assignment. I hate everything, right now. What are we, a couple of mall cops?" The younger officer spat.

They were so wrapped up in their grievances they didn't notice Brandon discreetly access the terminal across from them. He activated his omni-tool and started copying the hanar correspondence from the data stream.

"Probably reassigned us because of that batarian. Lost their homes, their loved ones… and some con artist swindles them out of what little they have left," the older one said.

That small bit of information quickly sparked Brandon's interest in the conversation.

"Can't believe he did that. They were refugees! Damn it, it's not like they had much left to start with! We still ought to do something about him," urged the younger cop.

"You heard the commander. No proof, no arrest. Guy filed a harassment complaint last time, remember? Gotta watch our backs. Though we should have just shot the bastard when we had the chance… he's been impersonating everyone from military relief groups to religious collections."

A very loud, vulgar expletive was on the tip of his tongue and his now tightened his fist wanted to slam against the wall. Instead of doing either of those and making a scene, he made a mental note to punch that con artist bastard the next time he saw him.

"Can this day get any worse?" He said to himself before his omni-tool blinked green, indicating the data copy had been completed, "Bau, here's the correspondence. If there's any mention of soul names-"

Brandon thought his heart skipped a beat and he did a double take at the correspondence. One name practically shouted at him.

"Zymandis," he said faintly.

_"Say again, Davis?"_

"It's Zymandis! Check that name, now."

_"I've got it. A recent arrival. Soul Name: Regards the work of the Enkindlers in Despair. He's been on 'special research assignment' ever since."_

"That bastard got his tentacles on some reaper tech."

_"Looks that way. I'm sending you the NavPoint for his office. I'll meet you there."_

"Copy, Bau."

_"Zymandis? The same one from Kahje?" A separate voice asked._

"Kasumi, did you hack my communications?"

_"No… I hacked Bau's," she said matter of factly._

"Look, I'm taking care of the diplomat thing. Keep silent for the time being."

_"You don't tell me what to do," she stated coldly._

"I'm not. I'm asking you. Just stay out of sight till I'm back from the embassies," he said louder than he wanted.

She said nothing and he imagined she was glaring at him hard right now.

_"Copy," she said._

He turned off his communicator, but could feel a pair of eyes on him. Both officers were now acutely aware of his presence. He did just blurt out 'embassies' and 'diplomat' in the same sentence. Very casually, he walked back to the transit car and set course for the embassy. Unfortunately, glancing out the window, he saw both officers jump in the next one behind him.

"Shit," he grumbled to himself.

As soon as Brandon landed, he made a quick stroll towards the office building. Bau was waiting in front. Brandon joined him and they both looked around discreetly. Fortunately, the cops following hadn't arrived yet, so with the coast clear, they nodded to each other, and entered the building. As soon as the door closed behind them, they withdrew their guns and stormed into Zymandis' office with Brandon on point.

"Freeze right where you are. Don't lift a tentacle."

The salarian lifted a hairless eyebrow at Brandon's threat, to which the human just shrugged.

"You're under arrest, Zymandis," Bau ordered, "Or should I say, Regards the Work of the Enkindlers in Despair."

In the dimly lit room, the hanar ominously glowed beside a terminal. The orange screen displayed schematics and scans of the planet Kahje with its active shields and turrets highlighted green.

"It seems this one has been apprehended. But confinement is irrelevant. The work of the Enkindlers cannot be stopped."

Something didn't feel right. It all felt too easy, and if Brandon had learned anything from Shepard, it was that nothing was ever easy. He slowly looked to the shadows to see light catch on a pair of pure black eyes. On the other wall was another set. They had to be his drell bodyguards. They were deathly still and ready to pounce. It was that emotionless, mechanical posture that felt off. They knew what Zymandis was about to do and didn't attempt to stop him. Their eyes didn't so much as blink.

"Indoctrinated," Brandon whispered.

Bau noted the two bodyguards as well, "This ends now, Zymandis. You've lost."

"Your belief in your victory is mistaken. This one's homeworld's planetary defense network is largely automated. It can be disabled with a single virus… " Zymandis turned to his captors, "… which I have just uploaded."

The hanar said 'I'. For some twisted reason, that made Brandon more worried than the threat towards Kahje. Meanwhile, Bau narrowed his gaze on the hanar, "A virus would be detected unless sent on low-priority channels, which have a time-lag…"

Then something warm and slimy dripped on Brandon's neck which made him flinch towards the ceiling. Clutching to the surface like a geth hopper was a third drell; his face was contorted and saliva curled from the corner of its mouth.

"… I may be able to block the upload-"

Then the drell launched down towards them.

"Bau!"

Brandon aimed quickly struck two shots through the drell's chest, but the dead body pinned him to the ground. The other two drell were fast from their spot, and while Bau shot and killed one of the charging bodyguards, the last one tackled him to the floor. A grappling melee ensured with the drell pressing his forearm down on the Bau's throat. While the salarian tried to push him off, he saw Brandon stuck under the dead drell.

"Davis!"

Brandon's head had smacked into the floor when the indoctrinated agent landed on him, and pain throbbed in the back of his skull.

"The uplink!" Bau choked.

Brandon looked up and saw the drell strangling Bau. On the floor next to him was his pistol. His right arm was stuck under the dead body, so he reached for it with his left hand. His fingers just barely touched the grip as Zymandis strolled closer.

"The Protheans eventually became the Collectors. And the Collectors serve the Reapers. Therefore, as a faithful servant of the Enkindlers, we too must serve the Reapers."

Zymandis' damp appendages slowly edged closer. Brandon frantically tried to grab at his gun, though, even if he could, he was stuck with a terrible choice between saving a planet or saving a friend. Suddenly, that choice became easier when the grating of the sub-ceiling fell to the floor and the outline of a cloaked figure landed in the room.

"I got the virus. You get Bau," Kasumi ordered as she slid across the desk to the terminal.

Brandon managed to wrap his hand around his gun and put a lone shot through the back of the head of the drell on top of Bau. When he turned around for Zymandis, he found himself face to face with the hanar. Aiming was futile when its tentacles wrapped around his wrist and forcefully pulled his arm back. Another tentacle slipped around his throat and squeezed, more akin to a snake crushing a hapless prey. He tried to kick deadly hanar off to no avail and the pain from the hanar's strength was more threatening than Brandon's gasps for air. He'd die from a crushed windpipe and broken neck before a lack of oxygen.

Zymandis pulled Brandon closer with more of his tentacles until there was no chance the human could break free.

"I assure you, peace will come in the form of the Reapers."

The pain made Brandon weak as he watched the hanar glow with each squeezing moment.

"When the Enkindlers uplift us as their chosen sapients, the galaxy will bear witne-"

Before Zymandis could finish, its body popped in a wave of goo and slime. Its grip went limp as it collapsed on top of Brandon, leaving the human gasping heavily as air rushed into his lungs. Behind him, underneath the dead drell, he saw smoke from the barrel of Bau's outstretched Predator.

"Thank you," he exclaimed.

Bau nodded breathlessly and pushed off the dead drell while Brandon untangled Zymandis' tentacles.

"I think we're even now," the Spectre said and helped the human out from under the gooey carcass.

"You big… stupid… jellyfish," Brandon spat at his former employer, wiping more of the goop off his chest, "Ugh. That's what happens when you shoot one?"

"Apparently so. That was my first time," Bau said with a chuckle.

Brandon couldn't help but join him in a hearty laugh. If there were any quarrels between them from Eden Prime, they had long since vanished. When sparks emitted from the terminal, they saw the internal guts had been physically ripped out and the screen cracked beyond use. The thief, however, was nowhere to be found.

"She was here the whole time," Bau said in a most amused tone.

"Nothing keeps her down," Brandon said, and quietly whispered, "not even me."

By the time they gathered themselves together and exited the building, C-Sec officers were approaching. Worryingly, two of them were the ones from outside Purgatory, so he let Bau take point and do the talking.

"Spectre. It's okay," assured Bau as the duo left the office, "Send a coroner. Three drell and one hanar. You men will stay on guard. No one goes in or out unless they are authorized personnel, understand?"

While Bau informed the officers, Brandon radioed Kasumi, "I thought I told you to sit this one out?"

_"You said 'stay out of sight'. Didn't mention anything about eavesdropping. And I stayed cloaked in my entrance."_

He sighed in defeat under his breath, "Well, C-Sec will be coming in soon. You out of there yet?"

_"Still in the office space. I'll wait till they send in the gurneys, then slip out."_

"Just keep your head down."

_"Always do. By the way, you have some goo on your ear."_

Brandon peeled the dangling piece of hanar off his ear and shook it to the ground.

"Thanks," he said, with all the tenderness returning to his voice, "Hey listen-"

"Davis. Tell her I appreciate the help," Bau said happily.

Brandon tried to look confused, but the salarian had an all-knowing smile, "It had to be her."

Knowing she was watching, he turned back to the office and pointed his thumb to the Spectre, "Oh by the way, your secret admirer says 'hi'-"

An abrupt, deafening crack was followed by a blinding flash that sent Brandon off his feet as the office building exploded in a massive fireball.

* * *

I know... cliffhanger. I'm terrible. This was one of those chapters that took a bit longer because it just had a lot of events taking place, but also tweaking a few plot lines. The Bau / Kasumi mission always seemed... very separate... in-game, so I tried to tie it with the Leviathan DLC content which, personally, made a lot more sense and even is mentioned in batarian logs. It just streamlined it a little better in the overall story. Let me know if it worked. Yeah, the refugee center, that is one of those places that Bioware got really right. First time seeing the wall of missing persons was a little too real for me (I'm from NY). Read, review, and enjoy, but be warned things start getting grim.


	14. Ch14: No Easy Way Out

The sharp whining in his ears was the first sign that told Brandon that he was alive. Both his hands found the ground and slowly pushed him to his knees. A throbbing brought his hand to the side of his face and touched the blood trickling down. His vision was blurry, yet a bright, amber glow encompassed everything before him; the heat it gave off sweltered his forehead. Burning air filled his lungs and he coughed in response. As his sight slowly cleared, the almost pleasant light revealed its true form. The office in front of him, the one Kasumi was in, was a ruined array of twisted metal and fire. As much as his adrenaline was pumping, the sudden realization made him feel as if his heart stopped.

Pushing his body through the haze, Brandon managed to find his feet and trudged through the scattered debris. His steps were sluggish and disoriented, but it was complete instinct pressing him towards the remains, even as the high temperature of the flames started to become unbearable. Before he could attempt to get closer, something grabbed at his collar and held him back.

"Davis, stop!" A voice called out. It sounded frantic and far away, but slowly grew louder as the high pitched ringing faded. Strangely, undertones of screams, cries, and familiar pops of rifles grew nearer.

"Gotta... get her out..." Brandon said, almost zombie-like, as he tried to move.

"She's gone!" The voice yelled.

"She's in there!" He didn't even realize his voice had raised as he started to pull violently away from the grasp.

"She's gone!"

A hard impact behind Brandon's knees dropped him to the ground. He seethed in pain while reality rushed back, and he found himself being quickly dragged by Bau behind the base of a large holo screen. The Spectre had been in a hurry to pull him back and then crouched with his weapon drawn. He wiped away some green blood that had coated the side of his head, just under his horn, before firing his gun towards the stairs of the hall.

As Brandon's senses returned, the first thing he realized was danger. He turned his head over the holo base and didn't need to do more to find it. Muzzle blasts from rifles flashed and sent him down to the deck. Turning to his opposite side, the same two turian officers who had followed him were shooting their own Predators behind cover.

"No clear visual on the enemy," the older turian growled.

"I have no contact from C-Sec HQ. They're not responding," said the other officer.

Another explosion rocked the embassy. Brandon's mind was racing with thoughts in all directions. The soldier part of his brain purged a breath from his body and did its best to seize control. It was chaos until his training came through to focus on what was happening: An explosion, under attack, enemy fire. He took another deep breath and withdrew _Excalibur_.

During a lull in the gunfire, Brandon attempted to peek over his cover. All he could see was a thick smoke screen. Reapers had been his first guess, but instead of speedy husks, square silhouettes plowed through the mist. They were armored shields and behind them were the red eyes from helmets.

It wasn't an immediate outburst; it just slowly coursed into his body like medi-gel. As it did, his grip on his gun grew tighter and tighter. All that was left was pure, unadulterated rage.

"Son… of… A… BITCH!"

It was less about accuracy and more about extreme prejudice as he fired in rapid succession. Unlike the last time, the rounds pierced the metal shields effortlessly to the Cerberus agents behind them and caused the incoming group scatter for cover. When the first clip in _Excalibur_ ran dry, he stood and immediately produced _Arondight_ and continued his reckless attack, caring little for the incoming rounds ricocheting around him. It took Bau tugging harshly on the back of Brandon's coat to get him back down to cover.

"Damn it! Stay down, Davis. There's too many of them!"

Brandon shrugged off his hold and reloaded his pistols, "Well, we're sitting ducks here."

"Sitting what?" Asked the young turian.

"We're fucked if we don't move!" Brandon reiterated loudly.

"Oh, you have any ideas?"

Every turn seemed awash with enemies or guaranteed the imminent arrival of more. There was so much smoke, he couldn't even see the clerk counter. The only haven in sight was the elevator on the other side of the room. It would require running across Cerberus' firing line, but that didn't seem to deter Brandon.

"I need some cover fire for the elevator. Even if they locked it down, I should still be able to hack it open."

"Should?" Bau asked incredulously.

"You guys got a better plan?"

No one responded, so Bau gestured to the two officers, "You two, wait for my mark. Be ready to cover him."

The Spectre moved to the far edge of the holo's base and fired his pistol, the gunfire immediately focusing in on his direction.

"Go!"

Brandon sprinted across the way while the two C-Sec guards returned Cerberus' fire with their own weapons. He was out of cover for a mere moment, and even with help, he could feel the impacts of bullets peppering the ground and walls around him. However, it worked and Brandon quickly tucked himself behind the wall of the access panel. His omni-tool glowed as he navigated his way through the system. Gunshots and explosions didn't break his concentration as he disconnected the nodes and reconnected the control circuit to work through his omni-tool. All levels that had been off limits, be it by Cerberus or Citadel control, were overridden and he felt the heavy jolt of the elevator ascending.

When the doors opened, Brandon made sure it was clear and empty before calling to his comrades, "I got it open. Come on!"

The Spectre signaled the two officers first. Brandon blind fired one of his guns until both cops were safely across. The last was Jondum, who rolled across the path to the rest of the group with impacts at his his heels. All occupants were aboard, but Brandon was hesitant to close the doors. He peered back to the bombsite, now completely engulfed in flames. The heat it gave off brought nothing to the cold he was feeling. It numbed his body, but did nothing against his pain. All life left his face as he stared blankly at the burning building. And, much like the inferno reflecting in his eyes, a chunk of his soul scorched with it.

"Davis! Snap out of it, we've got to go!" The salarian yelled.

Brandon reluctantly, yet angrily, smashed the button to seal the doors and the elevator lowered from the Presidium floor.

"We alright? Any casualties?" Asked Bau.

Brandon didn't respond. The other officers sported nothing worse than a few scrapes. The elevator moved past the wards and soon the shaft itself creaked and scratched along its route.

"Where are we going?" Asked one of the turians.

"Where no one has been in three years," replied Brandon.

The elevator stopped with an ungraceful quench of steel. The doors opened to a sight of mangled metal littering a hallway. It wasn't fresh and had been stagnant for quite some time. Brandon was the last to leave, but made sure to disable elevator's connection to the rest of the system. As soon as it was done, he activated the emergency brakes and removed his omni-tool from the circuit board. To ensure the elevator would never move again, he kicked the control panel off with the heel of his boot.

Around the corner from the elevator were two small walkways that stretched to either side of a large space. The far wall had the skeletal remains of what was once its neon sign. The group was still cautious as they walked forward, weapons drawn and checking the corners. After passing through what had been a doorway once, the group was greeted to a large, circular area of smashed chairs and crushed platforms. The big clue was the center of what was once a bar.

"Chora's Den," Bau noted, though it sounded more like a question.

"It was never reopened after the Reaper attack. Was hit hard and stayed off limits while under repair. Doubt Cerberus plans to venture down here," Brandon said.

The club was dusty, filthy, and wrecked, but it was free from any occupation. Still as a group, they moved past the bar and into an office in the rear; it was less cluttered and further out of sight. Brandon rubbed the back of his neck as they entered while Bau sat down on an old desk and put some medigel on the cut on his head.

Meanwhile, the younger officer just paced back and forth, "This is so fucking bad. Is it bad?"

His older partner with the dark gray markings, very similar to Garrus', just looked at him with a tilt of his head, "As opposed to good?"

"You and your big mouth. Wanting to follow this guy," he gestured a thumb in Brandon's direction.

"You said you wanted to do something other than guarding Purgatory. And now we have a war on our hands."

The pacing turian threw his hands in the air, "I meant fighting the Reapers, not some damn terrorists!"

"War is war, kid! You don't get the luxury of choosing who the enemy is!"

"Hey!" Brandon snapped, whirling back to the two officers, "Knock it off, the both of you. We're not going to start fighting amongst ourselves. You know why? Because we're just gonna end up right back with the exact same problems."

The younger officer stopped his pacing and took a long breath, cooling his nerves as the gray marked officer coolly approached Brandon, "If you don't mind me asking, what were you doing snooping around? While armed for that matter?"

Brandon knew he was being sized up by the officer; a point emphasized since the turian hadn't holstered his weapon and kept a very firm hold on it.

"I was working with Spectre Bau on an assignment. We were investigating a possible security breach in the hanar ranks," he said, leaving out the part about indoctrination.

The turian looked to the Spectre for a confirmation, to which Bau nodded, "He's telling the truth. He's with me."

The officer backed off and any tension in the air seemed to clear up.

"So what now?" The younger officer asked, his voice noticeably calmer than before.

"We can start simple, what are your names?" Brandon asked.

"Aultus," said the younger, white marked turian.

"Quintis," replied the older, gray marked one.

"Aultus and Quintis. I'm Davis, and you already know Spectre Bau," Brandon introduced himself and his colleague before withdrawing his firearms, "Now, everyone do a weapons check. How you doing on thermals?"

Everyone reloaded their sidearms and counted their spare clips.

"Got two left," Bau answered first.

"Same here," continued Brandon, "How 'bout you guys?"

"One," Quintis sighed.

"One and a half, really," said his partner.

Brandon thoughtfully tapped his spare clips together and then tossed one of them to Quintis, "Use it well."

Things felt very solemn shortly after. Or maybe it was just Brandon feeling it. It wasn't fear. It was a terribly familiar sensation growing in the pit of his stomach; something he kept swallowing down. And the more he was left alone with his thoughts the more daunting it was becoming.

"Alright gents," Brandon proclaimed, pressing his emotions further down, "We all know we are in a royally fucked up spot right now, and it's not going to get any better if we just stay here sitting around. Cerberus is up there, we are down here, so it's somewhat safe, but we don't know how long that'll last."

He received acknowledging nods from both the officers and, surprisingly, Bau too.

"It's obvious the first thing we need to do is radio for help," replied the Spectre, "But the Spectre office is in the embassy, and that is compromised. C-Sec would be the logical next step."

Unfortunately, Aultus shook his head grimly, "HQ wasn't responding when I tried to call in for your hanar thing, and that was before the explosion. The traffic control tower is above C-Sec and I severely doubt they weren't taken over as well."

Brandon put _Excalibur_ and _Arondight_ into their holsters, "Then I'll go to the docks. Maybe I could get to my ship and radio for support."

"Davis, they deliberately severed contact for any ships to enter or exit the station. The emergency comm systems never went into effect; even during the geth attack they were implemented. There's no telling how far Cerberus has infiltrated or how many are on the station," Bau warned his friend, but Brandon appeared oblivious to the danger as he slowly tilted his neck until a satisfying crack resounded from it.

"Guess I'm gonna find out. You two," he pointed to the turian officers, "Stay here and bunker down. Don't use the radios. If Cerberus does have C-Sec, then they'll be listening to anything that comes in. I'll head back up top and scout the docks. When I get back, I'll slam on the wall three times so you'll know its me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they said in unison.

"Technically, I outrank you for command, Davis," Bau interjected.

"And what's the difference between this plan and what you would do?"

The salarian didn't have a chance to respond as Brandon quickly closed the distance between them until they were face to face, never breaking eye contact with him, before speaking up again, "I'm not here to follow orders. Nor am I some leader. You want to take command of these guys? Fine. I'm just doing what I have to do. You're welcome to tag along if you want."

He wasted no time for any rebuttal from the salarian and didn't even check to see if Bau had followed him. The Spectre, on the other hand, was the only one of the group to clearly see the empty darkness that had encompassed the human's eyes.

* * *

It took effort for Brandon to squish his way passed the elevator and through the tangled metal hallway. As soon as he was in a clearing, he pulled out his pistol and began to check the shadows. The first space was what would have been the lower markets. Graffiti adorned some of the walls and certain spots had leftover food canisters and wrappings. Not a lot, but enough to know the undesirables of the station had taken refuge here before. If his memory served him right, this way should take him to the upper markets.

A long alley brought him past an old Citadel transit vehicle, crushed by a steel beam. Ahead was a transition of stairs leading up to a sealed door.

"Didn't expect you to follow, to be honest," Brandon mumbled when he heard the rustle of debris behind him.

"Someone has to watch your back," Bau countered with his gun in hand.

"You shouldn't bother. Look what that gets ya," Brandon's voice held no anger or emotion within it, just dead words.

Bau immediately caught the implication and shook his head, "All I'm saying is you could have taken a few moments to rest."

"Any time we waste gives Cerberus more time to gain ground."

"I agree, but at the very least you could have tended to the cut on your face."

Brandon un-caringly rubbed the side of his head and saw the crumbs of dried blood fall through his fingers.

"It stopped bleeding, no big deal," he grunted while wiping the remains on his soot stained shirt. He continued up the stairs without any deviation while Bau could only follow with woeful eyes.

They approached the closed door and noticed the control panel wasn't powered. Similar to the elevator, access was restricted after the geth attack.

"This'll lead into the upper markets. Should be able to make our way-"

The door suddenly jerked and was slid open.

Brandon raised his hand and they both quickly flushed themselves against the wall. The shadow of a figure stretched across the wall; the silhouette of a pistol in its hands growing bigger with each slow step it took. Bau pointed to his gun and holstered it; Brandon did the same.

The Spectre inched ahead, ever so slowly, to the edge of the wall and flexed his hands. They both saw the pistol come into view and turn in their direction, and, fast as lightning, Bau grabbed hold of the gun, shoving its owner into the wall.

The now disarmed figure stifled a grunt, but was quick to deliver a left cross square into the salarian's face. It stunned the Spectre, but before the situation escalated, Brandon cut between them.

"Stop, stop, stop! Friendlies," he whispered harshly.

The uniformed figure got a good look of the two men and the tension in his body language eased away. He wasn't in Cerberus colors; it was black with blue highlights, and his rust colored hair was close cut. Most likely military or cop.

"Who the hell are you?" The figure asked.

"I'm Brandon Davis. He's-"

"I know who **he** is. Been hanging with Valern all week. The way you salarians keep secrets, I'd think you two knew this was already coming."

"Commander Bailey, good to see you avoided Cerberus capture," Bau said as he returned the head of C-Sec his pistol.

"Yeah, well, I shouldn't have. I left the office after I received a report from one of my informants. He was noticing abandoned items paced along the Presidium. By the time I got there, one after another, explosions lit up the station like the Fourth of July."

"This was a properly planned takeover if those charges were planted recently," Bau surmised.

"We're stretched thin dealing with the refugee crisis, so they knew exactly where and how to hit us."

Bailey turned his attention back to Davis, "So how does he know you?"

"We were acquaintances on a few investigations," Bau explained, excluding the part about being on the opposite end of those incidents. "You can trust him."

"I'm not about to turn down help. Where were you two trying to go?"

"I have a ship at the docks," Brandon explained, "We were thinking we could radio for help."

"The docks have been locked down. Same goes for C-Sec and the control towers. I know, I tried. Those bastards got the place sealed tight."

"Shit," Bau spewed unceremoniously, "There goes that plan."

"And we can't very much do any other plan with just the three of us. You run into anyone else?" Bailey asked grimly.

"We have two officers holding up at Chora's Den. It may be smashed up, but its Cerberus free," informed Brandon.

"Good thinking. Most of the Presidium and executive areas are occupied. Guess Cerberus was smart to avoid certain sections of the lower wards to try to invade," he said with a gruff chuckle. "Let's head back and figure out a new plan."

The trio carefully closed the door and started back towards the club.

"What happened to your informant? You think he's okay?" Brandon inquired.

"He's in plain clothes and knows how to keep a low profile. If he does get checked, his name won't come up in the system."

"How does that work?"

"Cause he doesn't work for C-Sec, he works for me. You'd notice a drell in uniform."

That gave Brandon a slight pause, "A drell? Is he a Krios?"

It just came out from how astonished Brandon was, and Bailey was just as surprised he knew.

"How do you know Kolyat?"

In all honesty, Brandon didn't. Thane had mentioned his son on the _Normandy_, but he knew about the mission Shepard and Thane took to find him because… Kasumi was on that mission. It was over lunch when she recounted the story and how he'd pay off his 'debt to society'. She was so animated and enthusiastic while she described working with another 'stealthy'. It was then that he realized, he wasn't recalling what she was saying, but just her in that moment. How she blushed when he pointed out the blob of potatoes on her cheek… that shy way she tilted her head and averted her eyes under her hood when he wiped it off… even when she thought he wouldn't see it…

"Davis? Davis, you alright?"

His breathing had skyrocketed. He had to plant his fist over his shivering mouth and forced deep breaths through his nose and long exhales out.

"Fine," was all he managed to choke out before hurrying ahead the other two.

* * *

Three beats on the mangled wall brought Quintis and Aultus to their feet. They drew their pistols and checked the entrance of the club. Brandon appeared first in their line of sight.

"So I guess the docks were a no go," Aultus muttered defeatedly.

"No, but here's their cop-out," the head of C-Sec said, coming up from behind with Bau.

"Commander Bailey," Quintis acknowledged before holstering his weapon.

"Quintis. Aultus. Glad to see you two still causing trouble," Bailey said.

"Not that I'm not happy to see the commander, but you didn't find anyone else?" Asked Aultus.

"Everyone is scattered," Bailey answered, "Bound to be more officers hold up around the Citadel in mixed groups, but with the comms down and risk of Cerberus tapping in, we can't coordinate a strategy. Can't even radio our Special Response units."

Aultus looked at the floor. Quintis, even as a senior officer from his age, appeared slightly crestfallen.

"Don't let your morale down yet officers. We have a lot to do before that starts to settle."

Bau quirked a hairless brow from Bailey's apparent agenda. Even Brandon glanced to the C-Sec commander.

"What are you proposing?" Bau asked.

"If Cerberus hasn't followed you down yet, then this'll serve as base of operations. We're gonna need every C-Sec officer or anyone willing to hold a gun as we can. We're dealing with an army and we'll need one of our own if we hope to stand a chance against these pricks."

"What about weapons? They hit us hard and fast and our ammo lockers are in C-Sec headquarters and that's overrun," asked Aultus.

Bau stepped forward, "We could cannibalize a few C-Sec shuttles and skycars. We'll head up top and see what we can find. If we encounter any civilians, we'll take them in. Plenty must be caught in the crossfire and will need refuge."

When Bailey approved of the plan, Brandon was preparing to leave, but the Spectre deliberately turned to the two turians, "Quintis and Aultus, you ready?"

Both officers looked at each other and nodded sternly. Brandon glanced at them, then nearly glared back at Bau. The Spectre only returned it back.

"Take some time," Bau said calmly, before adding, "Then help Bailey."

The damn salarian had noticed. Davis was stuck here, now that Bau disappeared with his men from the club.

"We better start clearing this area. Stow the trash on one side and see if we can use anything that's left," Bailey said.

Brandon nodded absentmindedly and started shifting through the rubble. When he saw Bailey walk into the office, he moved towards the far end and activated his omni-tool.

"Kasumi," he lowly spoke, "I know you taught me never to use voice messages, but I want you to know it's me; not someone trying to lure you out. Listen, I'm safe and off the Presidium. I know I saw the office… but you gotta be okay. You-... you plan for everything…"

Brandon had to swallow and find his voice.

"So respond back so I can tell you where I am. Or, say where you are and I'll come get you. Just gimme a clue…"

His voice was barely holding together as he grasped to the last shred of hope he had left.

"Please, just let me know that you're okay. Tell me you're still ali-… you're still here."

After a painful sigh, he closed out the recording and hit send.

Message sent 0 minutes ago.

* * *

Many thanks to my Beta reader Maxaro.


	15. Ch15: Gimme Shelter

Message sent 4 hours ago.

Brandon rubbed his eyes and reluctantly closed his omni-tool.

"I'm opening the door. The coast is clear, but remember to stay quiet. If you have guns, don't shoot," he calmly spoke before opening the door.

This was always the unpredictable part. Everything hinged on someone not being too high strung or too unstable. Once, he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol, but the C-Sec officer kept his talon properly off the trigger. Another was a scared civilian about to use a piece of pipe like a club. No accidents had happened yet, but it was always a constant thought in the back of his mind. In this instance, only silence greeted him.

"Is there anybody in here?" He whispered into the war torn room.

The office space overlooked the Presidium. It would have been a beautiful view had the large window not sported numerous holes from rifle fire. Opposite from the glass, a human woman laid face forward on a desk. Four holes had been embedded into her back and her long blonde hair had been stained with blood. Behind the desk, sitting in a chair, was a salarian with two holes in his gut and chest. On the floor, from his limply hanging hand, was an M-3 Predator. Brandon retrieved and inspected the weapon; it had a full thermal clip.

"Poor bastard, you didn't even get off a shot," he said to the dead eyed salarian before collapsing the gun.

Brandon then proceeded to sort through the desk drawers. He overlooked credit chits and expensive trinkets for food or first aid supplies. The lowest drawer revealed a personal fridge stocked with four cans of Tupari and a chilled white wine. He took all but the wine and stuffed them into a dufflebag. The hardest drawers to open were the top three. Not because they were locked, but after having performed countless thefts, Brandon knew those were the most personal ones. The middle one was just office supplies. The right, only a junk drawer. The left and last was the surprising one; one half eaten and one untouched dark chocolate Apollo bar. Apparently, the salarian had a sweet tooth-!

Heavy thumps rippled through the floor. Immediately, Brandon ducked to the floor and pushed himself against the nearest wall. He couldn't see it, but he listened to the looming footsteps moving closer just outside the window. Pieces of the window fractured as the top part of a large mech stomped passed. Brandon bit his lip and stayed quiet until the sounds grew fainter as the mech walked further away.

Wasting no time, he stuffed the unopened chocolate bar in his pocket and readied to leave. However, it was hard not look back at the poor souls one final time. He swallowed the lump that had built in his throat and closed the door. The only thing he could offer them was a soft sigh as he headed back to base.

* * *

Four turians with Avenger rifles waited at the passageway leading to Chora's Den. They waved Brandon through as they had numerous times before. Debris and discarded tables had been dragged out from the club and set up as cover in case of an impending attack. They were the first line of defense. Six more guards were placed on either side of the narrow walkways with similar cover; the second line. The entrance to the club itself sported eight guards on standby. While it made the ones inside feel safe, if Cerberus managed to get that far then it wouldn't matter much.

It had only been eight hours since Chora's Den became a refuge, but the dilapidated bar was now a fully occupied shelter. There was no access to water, food, or basic supplies, but it was away from the violence for the moment. Sometimes supplies would trickle in with civilians and officers. Other times, a few good men would scavenge and bring back what they could. Pairs of two were the mandatory minimum, but sometimes four or six would leave when a load was definite. It was the same cycle; a pair or group would head out, sometimes find a few civilians held up in a room, sometimes with a C-Sec officer, then they'd escort them back to the hideout. A different group would go when they returned, so not too many were scattered. It worked well, and, so far, only once had a group never come back.

On the left side of the club, the majority of people were C-Sec officers; three dozen of them, with a mix of turians, humans, asari, and even salarians. They stayed organized and checked their own personal stock. With Spectre Jondum Bau and Commander Bailey in charge of all operations, it helped put their minds at ease. Bailey knew his people and had a presence among them and everyone knew Bau was a Spectre and helped with morale. Brandon stayed as an unknown; it was easier to be just another face in the crowd.

At the center of what would have been the bar, Quintus and Aultus were field stripping weapons and cataloging thermal clips.

"Hey, gents."

Aultus looked up and his tired eyes brightened a bit, "Davis, how's it looking up there? Find anyone?"

"Nope. If there are any, they are staying put and hidden. It's more occupation than assault now that Cerberus has got Atlas mechs roaming the streets," Brandon reported to the two officers.

"How did they sneak in an Atlas!?" Aultus asked, visibly shocked by the notion.

"They didn't. Bailey told me a carrier ship had docked a few moments before the explosions. I'll put any number of credits those were more reinforcements arriving."

As soon as his words had been registered, Brandon wanted to berate himself for opening his mouth. Clear looks of worry spread not only on the young turian's face, but also his partner.

"But hey, some good news! Found a present for ya," Brandon exclaimed as he tried to save the moment, putting the recovered pistol on the table while trying to sound enthusiastic. "Stumbled across this in an office. Has an untouched thermal clip, slightly modified with a high capacity magazine and high cal barrel."

Quintus was first to get his talons on the weapon. His gaze was steady, stern, yet extremely composed as he examined it. Clearly, the veteran officer knew his firearms, "Great. It's better than most of what we got."

Brandon glanced at their current inventory. Referring to the cache of weapons as an arsenal would have been a poor choice of words. Most of the officers in the club were at the very least armed with a standard issued pistol, but assorted small arms was a major disadvantage against armored soldiers with rifles. Laid out on the counter was a selection of Predators, an old Mattock battle rifle, five M-23 Katana shotguns, three M-4 Shurikens, and two M-9 Tempests. No assault rifles. No long-range guns. The situation was only made more grim by some of the spares they did have coming from officers and private owners who were either too wounded to participate or much less fortunate. It reminded Brandon of what was left of their weapons before the Collector base on the old _Normandy_. Except, worryingly, this was far more bleak. These people weren't Shepard's team of high profile professionals. While the turian's were military trained, many of the other cops were limited to the academy and some of the volunteers had never even picked up a gun before.

"Someone found one of our armored C-Sec shuttles just off the Presidium," Quintus continued, interrupting Brandon's thoughts, "A group went out to to try and get more guns."

Brandon nodded, then handed over his dufflebag, "It's not dextro, but I know some of your friends are running on no sleep. Four cans of Tupari."

"Oh Davis, I sent you out to the store and you didn't even remember to get the beer," Quintus said in a faux attempt at a female voice.

"Sounds like you are speaking from experience, Quint," smirked Brandon.

"Yeah, my wife. She busted my butt whenever I got the groceries. I… I always ended up forgetting something," the turian recalled with a sad smile.

Aultus quickly patted his friend on the back, "Hey, cheer up. At least your wife and the kids went on that trip you mentioned awhile back. Where was it again?"

"They… canceled the trip. Donated the funds to some charity when Earth was hit. And then…"

"Palaven. Shit. I'm sorry."

"Yeah... why don't we get these guys some drinks, huh?"

Quintus walked off with the dufflebag and Aultus followed after. Brandon couldn't help but feel sorry for the turian, he knew what it was like to worry about a loved one. Without a voluntary thought, he checked his omni-tool. Still nothing.

Trying to stay focused, he moved over to the opposite side of the club where the non-combatants resided. The number of civilians was up to three dozen. Wounded was around two dozen. A trip to Huerta Memorial was too risky, so the wounded were tended by volunteers who had even basic experience. The hurt were at the very least stabilized, but some of the injured fared far worse.

"Excuse me, how's the medigel situation?" Brandon asked one of the 'doctors'; a salarian veterinarian.

"It's tight. We are rationing what we have, but some of these people will need to get to a hospital soon."

"I'll try and find ya some more."

"Many thanks," the vet replied.

"It smells funny here, Mommy. When do we get to go home?"

Brandon overheard a young voice from a small group huddled together by the wall. It appeared to be an asari and her two daughters.

"I know, kids. It'll just be for a little while, okay?"

"But I'm hungry, Mom," the smallest one replied again.

The scene just made Brandon's heart fall down to his heels. He scratched the stubble on his chin and had an idea.

"Hey there little ones," he introduced himself.

"I'm not little. I'm twenty," the girl said proudly.

"My mistake," Brandon said with his hand on his chest, lowering himself down to their eye level, "Listen, can you girls keep a secret?"

The youngest one smiled, the older, quiet daughter leaned closer with interest, and the mother was simply confused. Slowly, Brandon pulled the chocolate bar from his pocket and both of the little asari's eyes went wide.

"Now, I only have this one, so you two are gonna have to share it. Deal?"

They nodded their heads eagerly as he handed over the treat.

"You want some, Mommy?" Asked the little one.

"I'm fine, Niri. You and your sister enjoy it."

Niri and her sister split the dark, moist bar and happily munched on the snack. Their mother looked up to Brandon and gave him a mouthed 'Thank you' along with a tired smile.

Brandon smiled back, probably for the first honest time since this whole thing started, and stood up. Of course, a certain Spectre had been standing right behind him, watching the whole exchange.

"Problem, Bau?" He asked, expecting some kind of remark. The salarian's eyes probed him, but not in his usual serious manner. It was a much softer observation.

"No, you're just… reminding me of someone."

"Right," was all Brandon could muster.

"We took in some water and have some rationed up."

"Good, the wounded look worse for wear."

"I was extending the offer to you."

"Bau, I'm able bodied. They need it more than me."

"But you've been taking every opportunity to scout for supplies for the past four hours straight, and I can guess you haven't slept much before all this. Not to mention you should be doing it with a partner, not alone. I'll put one of the other groups on shift so you can get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"That's what I'm trying to avoid."

"Bau, you don't need to babysit me, and last I checked you haven't gotten much sleep either."

Bau's brow crooked at the obvious deflection, "I'm a salarian, I don't need much sleep."

"Then don't waste that time with me-"

A high pitched shriek snapped both of their attentions to the front entrance. A woman had covered her mouth at the incoming patron: A human C-Sec officer with an asari draped over his shoulder; both of them covered in purple blood.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Brandon overheard from Niri.

"Listen, kids. We're going to play a game, just like in daycare," the mother frantically whispered, "You need to keep your eyes shut and stay quiet. Okay?"

Her had children nodded happily and put their palms over their eyes. Meanwhile, Brandon and Bau rushed over to the officer.

"What happened?" Bau asked as soon as they were at the officer.

"Jericho and I were escorting civilians, then Cerberus caught us. Everyone scattered. Jerry stayed behind to hold them off, but was clipped in the head. She got hit running away."

"Did they see you? Were you followed?" Bau followed up quickly.

"I don't know, I don't think so," the officer tried to answer.

"You can't be careless! You might have led them straight to us-"

"Bau!"

Brandon cut through both the salarian's quick talking and placed himself between him and the officer. He took the girl in his arms and carried her over to the medical area. It was cluttered with so many people that the only space he could find was against the wall.

"There we go. It's safe now," he cooed while he gingerly lowered her down.

He knelt on the floor in front of the girl and got his first face to face. She wasn't a commando, maybe a receptionist at best. There was so much blood that he couldn't see her facial tattoos. Her breathing was hoarse with a trickle of blood moving down her chin. She clutched the left side of her chest with nothing but a ripped piece of clothing to keep her wound from leaking quicker.

"I need to move your hand so I can see, okay?"

Brandon moved the blood soaked garment to see the exit wound just under her breast. Her lung must have collapsed and he could feel her shivering from blood loss. However, when her tear filled eyes of blue met his, he almost lost it.

"Please... it… it hurts so much," the woman pleaded before she coughed, spraying her own blood on her once white uniform.

"Don't worry, we are gonna give you some medi-gel and patch you right up."

Brandon expected someone to hand him a gel packet. Instead, none of the volunteers were approaching.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?"

Bau shook his head. Others were already averting their eyes away from the scene. Brandon's brow furrowed for a moment before he went for his pocket and injected his rationed pack of medi-gel into her system, very much ignoring Bau's grunt. He slathered the gel into the wound and the entrance hole in her back. The asari sighed and breathed much easier than before, but beyond that there was nothing else he could do.

"Feel better?"

"Yes… thank you," she said with the slimmest of a smile; a glimmer of hope that she thought she'd be alright. It dug into Brandon so hard that he rose quickly, before she could see his jaw shaking.

"May I have a word with you?" Bau asked sternly as the thief turned away from the slumped down asari.

Brandon quietly obliged and followed the salarian towards the club's office, away from the masses. Bailey was meeting with the officers, so the room was mostly empty, however, Bau and Brandon's apparent mood made any of the remaining occupants scurry out.

As soon as Brandon closed the door behind him, he spoke up before the salarian could. "So help me if the first words out of your mouth are 'That was a waste'."

Bau's lips stopped whatever he was about to say before swallowing and restarting, "You can't save everybody. Our supplies are limited and these people are scared."

"So put that girl in a corner and pretend like she's already dead?"

"She _is _already dead, Davis. That was a fatal wound and you know it! All you did was buy her a few hours."

"Want us to start sorting who we bring in then? What the hell kind of message would that send to these people?"

"When did you decide to become a bleeding organ all of a sudden?"

Brandon squeezed his temples with his hand, "Heart, Bau. It's bleeding heart. Get the reference at least."

"Beside the point, you need to start considering that we are going to have to lose people."

"And the ones that do we have, we still got to give them some hope."

"Is that what you're clinging on to!?"

That stonewalled Brandon silent and Bau knew it.

"Don't hide it. I've seen you checking your omni-tool near constantly. I was there, Davis. Kasumi is dead."

"You don't know that," were the words that came out with such a cold emptiness.

Bau folded his arms, "You don't want to accept that she is gone? Fine, but don't let that cloud your judgment."

"The last time I saw her I yelled at her because she lied to me. You want me to accept the last thing she thought was I hated her!?"

As angry as he was to Bau, Brandon's sorrowful eyes were barely holding back tears. That was when salarian blinked in realization.

"You… you loved her, didn't you?"

No words came to defend Brandon's actions this time. He couldn't even look Bau in the eyes anymore.

"Brandon… perhaps you think of me as only a Spectre. Well, I'm also a man, and I still feel when something precious is taken away," Bau admitted with a noticeable hurt in his voice.

The salarian started to exit, but turned back around for one final thing, "If you want to give them hope, start by cleaning yourself up."

Now Brandon was left alone. He glanced at his hands which were now covered in purple blood. He wiped it off on his shirt, but it didn't go away… it never went away…

A dark corner was his refuge and there was no comfort in the wall he pressed himself against. His hands ran through his hair and grabbed at the back of his head. His breaths became deeper and faster and he had to mentally slow himself down. Training was what kept him in line. It was what kept him from exploding. Slower breaths through the nose to slow his heart rate. Fists tightened, then eased. His sleeve removed the sweat on his brow and any tears that may have squeezed out.

* * *

This was one of those windows into how badly things become not just for our favorite characters, but for everyone involved. One of those times Cerberus' true colors flourish.

Many thanks to my beta Maxaro. School has been bogging me down so updates have been less frequent than I'd like.


	16. Ch16: Boiling Point

The metal cylinder rotated around its center, leaving barely noticeable scratches on the surface of the bar. Gradually, it slowed until the haze of its red light focused into discernible units of its heat capacity. Brandon spun the thermal clip again and watched its mesmerizing spiral; blinks from scratchy eyes helping to rub away the dryness.

Brandon's 'five minute' rest had turned into an hour. Exhaustion seeped through his bones and his head stayed propped against his hand, supported by his elbow. However, thoughts made him too anxious to sleep. It's what kept his attention split between the twirling clip and the former club's entrance. Fewer people trickled in and the amount of outgoing patrols was slashed in half. There had been a few new faces, but none of them was the one he'd seen every night when he went to bed, or cuddled against when she pulled him close. The longer he waited, the less likely he expected Kasumi to waltz in under a false cover I.D.

The amount of times he checked his omni-tool had become long forgotten, even as he did it again:

Message sent 7 hours ago

No calls. No voice. No message.

"Come on, baby. Give me something," he mumbled quietly to himself.

Looking back on the bar, the thermal clip laid motionless again; never had it landed in the same direction it stopped the time before.

Faint weeps were beyond common now, something he'd never get numb to, but the familiar tone pulled Brandon's eyes. Niri and her little sister had managed to fall asleep in their mother's lap. The moment allowed their mother to weep by herself, so her kids wouldn't worry. Tears streamed over her lavender facial tattoos as she held her children close.

The scene squeezed his insides even more and he swiped the clip again, nearly flinging it off the bar. For some reason the scratches sounded louder.

A woman's desperate cries exploded from the subdued group. Brandon didn't want to look because it came from the medical area, but he had to. A human shook a lifeless turian and begged for him to wake up. She had to be pried away before a blanket was drawn over the body. The salarian doctor looked lost for what to do and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The sobbing was deafening, just as much as the metal was scathing his ears.

And in that same area, the asari receptionist he had helped had finally stopped shivering… but it was the last she'd ever move. He couldn't even pretend she was sleeping by her half opened eyes. Her pupil's contracted so much, he couldn't see the blue of her irises anymore. Only blank, black eyes remained. Yet, even as lifeless as they appeared, it was like she was still looking at him. All the while the woman sounded like she was screaming at him. And the metal continued tearing at him-!

The clip stopped its aimless spiral when he slammed his palm down, right into the crease of his hand, and he reloaded it back into his pistol.

"Quintus! I need two thermal clips," Brandon ordered.

The turian didn't even flinch and handed two over, "No problem. You going out again?"

"Yeah," he answered simply. "I have a feeling Cerberus is gonna be a little more thorough with their patrols."

Quintus' mandibles ticked against his plates, "Sure you don't want to take a rifle or something?"

"No, I'd rather have another armed officer," Brandon said while pocketing his heatsinks.

"Alright. Be careful out there and try not to do anything stupid, like getting yourself killed," the older turian called back.

"Can't make promises," Brandon said to himself before heading towards the office. It was sparse, apart from Bailey listening to one of the officers back from patrol. The dark circles under the commander's eyes made him appear further dismayed by the conversation.

"We escorted another batch of people; six civilians and two C-Sec officers. I'd heard some gunfire. Pockets of officers might be holding out against Cerberus attacks."

"Good job, Officer Lang," Bailey said tiredly. "Dismissed."

The officer left, and as soon as he was out of view, Bailey groaned and pressed himself off the desk. Brandon could only imagine the mental exhaustion weighing on him.

"Hello, Davis. What brings you here?"

"I wanted to let you know I'm leaving. I can't stay anymore."

Bailey displayed no reaction. He simply grabbed a pouch and emptied black chunks into a cracked mug, followed by water from a half empty bottle. One of the officers had brought back instant coffee. Hot water was the preferred method, but in these circumstances, the beverage was desired in any form.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I appreciate you letting me know rather than just walking out."

"No radios, so the last thing I need you doing is sending out a search party or worrying the civilians."

"Well, you aren't part of C-Sec, and none of the volunteers are under orders to stay. And if Bau has a problem with it, he'll deal with me." Bailey stood up and put out his hand, "I hate to lose you, but good luck."

Brandon reciprocated the handshake, "Thank you, Bailey."

Bailey went back to his coffee and looked over schematics on his holo-pad. Brandon had only touched the door when he heard the head of C-Sec ask, "Can I convince you to stay an hour?"

He tapped the wall lightly, "What happens in an hour?"

"We retake C-Sec."

That got Brandon to turn around, "Seriously? Are your guys even ready for something like this?"

Bailey chuckled, "Honestly, the question is pretty irrelevant. Cerberus is here now, and we have to stop them. Communication is vital, but Cerberus is intercepting all transmissions. We establish radio superiority by retaking CHQ and implementing the backup network. From there, we'll be able to coordinate contact with the station and all officers. Even if things go bad we could to send out a signal to get help or reinforcements from any off station militaries."

Brandon crossed his arms, "So what's the offensive?"

"When we'd ambush thugs on a drug deal, we know exactly how to take them. We know how many, how wide to surround the area to cut off their escape, and how much force to make them decide to go quietly. This time, we are the small gang trying to get around the bigger power. Working the problem from the inside out this time."

"But unlike cops, Cerberus doesn't plan on arresting us," Brandon noted.

"There's that too," Bailey acknowledged humorously. "The main force will attack at the markets as a distraction while a smaller group will infiltrate the dock entrance of C-Sec."

"That means recapturing the refugee center."

"If we retake the camp, maybe grab some volunteers, it'll separate Cerberus between the markets, the refugee center, and the docks. Might make them think we are a greater force than we really are."

Brandon smirked because the plan mirrored the Collector base assault, utilizing a main force to distract from a smaller group sneaking from another flank, so in theory it should work. Exactly what Shepard might have done in this situation, although Garrus' banter about sniping and calibrations would probably lift his spirits. Or even Thane's calm demeanor. Hopefully, Thane's son was alright, same to him if he was still on the station.

"So you want me to help storm the rear of HQ?"

"I'm storming rear," Bailey replied, but his tone lowered as he looked up from his holopad. "You're not."

Brandon quirked a curious brow as to what his job would be.

"Me and my men will retake C-Sec. I'm sending you after the councilors."

"Wait, what?" He said in disbelief.

"Part of my job is to ensure we have a working government and that our top officials haven't been executed."

"No offense, Bailey, but I couldn't give two shits about the Council. There are plenty of people who need help, not just the higher schmucks. This sounds more like Bau's territory. You should send him."

"I am, but he's gonna need backup, and since you technically aren't part of the force, you're it."

"Then why doesn't he tell me?"

"'Cause it's my request. Not his. I'm asking this as a favor. I don't know what history is between the both of you, but he trusts you and I've been around long enough to know the difference between a merc and a soldier. If you were just a mercenary, then you would have just left the camp and not come here."

The air got very heavy in the room, though Brandon was feeling it more than Bailey. He wanted to leave to find Kasumi or, at the very least, kill Cerberus. However, Brandon couldn't help knowing his old duty as an Alliance soldier.

"Fine," he puffed with an annoyed breath, "But how do we get to the refugee center? They are going to have every elevator and hallway guarded."

"Bau will fill you in on the details. Let's go give him the news."

The spectre had been waiting patiently outside the office. The surprise on Bau's face turned to partially annoyed when Brandon followed Bailey's exit, "I assume he has been debriefed?"

"Yes, he has. You and Davis will head for the Council. I'm gonna make the announcement to the boys."

Bau saluted the commander, though his reaction to Brandon was far more irritated, "Don't be smug."

"Not at all," Brandon said with no attempt to hide it.

Bau turned to follow Bailey, and Brandon watched. More men returned to operations, each of them carrying duffle bags overloaded with weapons and thermal clips. Their loot wasn't much beyond stock rifles and pistols, but the glee on many of the officers was a good confidence booster, even if it was just Elkoss Combine crap.

"We have some firepower now. We should be able to defend ourselves," said one of the officers.

Bailey marched his way through the crowd. He lifted an old Avenger, popping and reloading the thermal clip, "Listen up boys. We are retaking C-Sec."

The Commander's words were met with mixed reactions from the group. Some gungho, but others were merely afraid.

"Are you out of your mind?! We can't take on an army with what we've got! It'd be suicide. We'd be better off hunkering down here-!"

Bailey slammed his hand down on the table, grabbing the attention of every person around him.

"We're taking our station back," Bailey declared with an iron voice, "The Citadel is locked down, no outside communication is possible, we're on our own, and Cerberus is going to kill everyone in their way. Namely us. People are dying up there. They aren't soldiers. They are civilians. People each and every one of you swore to protect. Who you took an oath to defend on this station at all costs. The same oath our friends and brothers who fought the gangs served. The same who fought the geth at the Battle of the Citadel. Are you gonna turn away now when our people, _your_ people, are begging for help? Are you going to let a bunch of terrorist thugs push us out from _our_ homes?"

There was a resounding 'No!' from the group.

"Cerberus wants a fight?" Commander Bailey racked his rifle, "I say, we give 'em a fight!"

Brandon managed to smirk slightly, looking at the response from the group. Even Bau looked impressed at the revitalized morale. The C-Sec officers and volunteers gathered their gear and dispersed the weaponry, with a few more men jumping up to join in the fight. Several of the more wounded officers stayed behind to defend the remaining civilians, but they looked on with evident praise and admiration of their colleagues.

* * *

A section of panel was slowly lowered from the ceiling. A small piece of a broken mirror, attached to a metal pipe, peeped into the dark space and rotated around.

"All clear," said Bau, pulling the mirror back down.

"So what is this?" Asked Brandon.

"This shaft runs across the sealed areas. It's an underground keeper line. One of the exit points is right inside the refugee center."

"You sure? How do you know?"

Bau activated a holographic map, "This is a map of the Citadel."

"We all have one of those," Brandon quipped sarcastically.

The spectre brought his omni-tool closer to Brandon, and enlarged the screen.

"Rephrase. This is the entire layout of the Citadel. Air ducts. Rafters. Maintenance shafts. Every 'nook and cranny' as you humans say."

It was hard to hide the human's surprise.

"How'd you guys manage this?"

"Technically, not us. A few years ago, a scientist name Chorban took the task of tracking and studying the Keepers. Movements, patterns, routes, everything; it allowed for the chance to trace the tunnels and pathways. Not even the Council has extensive logs like this."

"Something tells me it wasn't exactly legal," Brandon said, while covertly putting his hands behind his back.

"The Council would never grant permission for such an endeavor, especially to one with questionable ties. STG discovered the data and personally extracted it. Valern stressed for it to stay within the Union."

"You salarians and your secrets... and you wonder why people have trouble trusting you," Brandon quipped as he opened his own omni-tool and 'transferred' a local copy of the map on it; almost without thought. He could almost hear Kasumi scolding him if he hadn't take the opportunity. "So we sneak in, bypass the locks without alerting every agent in the area, then re-capture the refugee center. Not completely crazy at all."

His slightly chipper attitude received a brief glance from Bau before the salarian cleared his throat, "Gentlemen, sync up your omni-tools. Without radios we'll have to time this exactly."

Bailey and Brandon waited as the salarian counted down.

"Approaching twenty past the hour, Citadel time, in three… two… one… mark. Excellent. Should take no more than thirty minutes to shuffle to the access panel. Give us forty in case something goes awry. To work our way through the docks and open the door… I can't be sure. Twenty minutes. Approximately…"

"Guess it'll have to do," Bailey shrugged. "In an hour, the main force will hit the markets. Me and my group will be by the docks one minute after. Listen, if things go bad, we won't be able to give you backup."

Brandon cracked his knuckles, "When is that ever new."

Bailey nodded and cupped his hands. With the help of Bau as well, the two hoisted Brandon up into the ceiling vent. His eyes stayed open, and yet it looked the same as if they had been shut; pitch black. The air tasted old and stale. It made sense since circulating fresh oxygen into a tunnel was unnecessary. Everything he touched felt slimy. From the metal ground to the steel girders, they'd all been coated by some sort of oil or lubricant. The upside was that the tunnel wasn't dirty in the organic sense. No dust or feces to worry about.

To avoid giving away his position with his omni-light, Brandon just let the orange glow of his omni-tool brighten his path. Visibility stretched to a only few feet ahead, but was better than total darkness or alerting Cerberus.

"So, Legion, was this what it was like creeping through that exhaust shaft?" He grunted quietly through the access tunnel.

Bau followed shortly after and then the panel sealed behind them.

"Onward," said Bau.

The pair started on their trudge through the tunnel. It wasn't big enough to stand, but not so low that they had to crawl. It teetered on a balance of crouching, squatting, and a little dragging. Basically, uncomfortable to move. The exception was any Keeper. Multiple foot imprints littered the greasy floor.

"This is the last time I do Bailey a favor," Brandon groaned.

"If we're being honest, I had suggested for you to stay behind and guard the civilians."

"That's really nice of you, Bau," he said, voice clearly layered with sarcasm. "But you honestly thought I'd sit back on a sneak attack on those civilian shooting sons a bitches?"

"You're personally involved, that makes you dangerous to the mission. You're blinded by so much rage that you don't care."

"And what of it?" Brandon darkly dismissed the Spectre. "Does it change the plan in any way?"

"Admittedly, no, but it'll affect your decisions. I know my duty. You? You just want to kill every last one of them," Bau said evenly, his tone as serious as could be.

"For once, Bau, we agree upon that unanimously," Brandon replied gravely.

The duo remained quiet the rest of the way until they reached the access panel. It was a simple mechanical lock. Nothing to hack and no other safeguards. However, they had no idea what or who might be on the other side. If they were lucky, no one. Unlucky, stationed guards with rifles. The salarian flexed his fingers. Brandon took a long, calming breath and then nodded.

Bau turned the lock. The bolts disengaged with a thud that would've alerted anyone within a few feet. Knowing this, they exited quickly with pistols out and, fortunately, their aim was directed at no one but steel crates. It was a brief moment of elation before they sealed the hatch behind them.

"Time check?" Bau asked.

"Thirty two minutes. Main team starts in twenty eight minutes."

With that, the duo headed from the storage area towards the refugees.

For a bustling area with many people, it was drastically silent; the first clue about the status of the docks. Together, Brandon and Bau inched up slowly and cautiously until they came from behind the dock teller's counter. Some of the employees noticed them with worried expressions but became calm when they realized who Bau was. The salarian put his ginger to his lips and inched ahead with Brandon in tow. Very carefully, they looked over the counter and got their first assessment of the situation.

Cerberus had a good amount of security to keep the refugees herded in the docks. The Presidium may have been guarded by Atlas mechs, but this place didn't allow for the space and had a higher potency for a riot. They solved that with a lot more guns, a turret, and soldiers that could cut down a good portion of them in moments. Just watching the turret swivel back and forth was unnerving, and this was against scared civilians and wounded soldiers. Many of the C-Sec guards had been disarmed and removed from their posts. The unlucky ones had been left sprawled on the floor in their own blood.

"Bau, this is pretty substantial," Brandon whispered. "Our biggest problem is the turret by the door."

"That's not problem at all."

Bau notched a few buttons on his omni-tool and aimed it at the turret. Its swiveling head stopped for a brief moment and then continued its normal routine.

"VI hacking… nice one," Brandon conceded.

"A little more useful than hacking cars, isn't it?"

Brandon rolled his eyes at the spectre's jab before the two quickly made their way around the corner to the door.

"The main task force should be in position by now. All we need…" Bau stopped talking as soon as he connected his omni-tool to the lock.

"What's wrong?"

"Cerberus overrode the old security code with a new one. This is a lot more complex than I thought it'd be," Bau rambled quickly.

"How long do you think?"

"To avoid tripping the Cerberus safeguards, I'll have to do it slower than I would prefer. I need six minutes."

Brandon immediately checked the time; it would crest past the main team's attack and when Bailey would arrive. It would be extremely close. Additionally, it put the duo in a bad spot in the refugee center. They couldn't afford to start the hack again, and if Cerberus decided to leave the port or inspect the area, they'd be spotted.

"Cover me while I bypass it."

"Sure you got this?" Asked Brandon.

"I was STG long before I was a Spectre."

The palms of Brandon's hands moistened as he was at the mercy of the Bau's skills. There was no question that he could perform it, but how well was the key. He couldn't help but think of how Kasumi could have hacked it with her eyes closed. This was her expertise. This was where she shined. She could have gotten through twice as fast, with a smile as she did it. It took a large gulp to push his emotions deeper down.

"Excuse me…"

The first thought was that the voice was both low and far away. Brandon peeked around the corner and, as with many of the other civilians, looked towards a Cerberus captain and two other subordinates. They approached an individual in the batarian camp. Oddly, it wasn't a batarian, but a human woman… an incredibly familiar one. Brandon couldn't put his finger on it; the clothes were different and the hair was shorter, but the auburn color of it was very reminiscent of-

"…Miss Kelly Chambers?"

The realization clicked, and then Brandon's fingertips immediately felt numb. No voice came from his mouth by the time Kelly turned, and the shock in her eyes was the last thing she was able to convey before the back of her head exploded from a Carnifex. An instant and she was gone, with Brandon forced to watch her body fall with a lifeless thud. Squeaks and cries came from the few people crowded around her as they watched the merciless execution. Kelly's eyes were still frozen in fear as blood pooled around her.

Air seethed from Brandon's lungs and his jaw clenched tight. He didn't even realize he tried to stand as he grasped the grip of his gun-

"You do it and we're all dead," Bau said quickly, but loudly enough that it echoed in the open space.

"What was that?" Said the captain of the Cerberus troops.

Bau, for the first time ever, widened his eyes in panic before quickly returning to the lock. Brandon withdrew his other weapon and glanced around the side again.

The captain and two of his subordinates started in their direction. They hadn't been exposed yet, but if Cerberus got closer then their cover would be blown. Technically, it already was because Brandon noticed the thin slits of a familiar krogan peering in his direction. Inamorda sat hunched over on the ground; his gaze fixed Bau, but then moving to Brandon, and turning into a piercing glare. Inamorda and Brandon stared at one another; his dark eyes meeting his brown orbs that pleaded for him to stay quiet. Of course, the krogan didn't.

"Think you're so tough herding civilians who can't fight," Inamorda hollered to the Cerberus guards. They stopped in their tracks and proceeded to his direction.

"Krogan, you messing around over here?" The commanding officer questioned as his two colleagues approached on either side, cradling their shotguns firmly.

"I've seen asari with bigger quads than the lot of ya," he chuckled.

The soldiers were unamused.

"I asked you a question. You better answer," the captain demanded.

Surprisingly, a toothy grin creased along the krogan's mouth, "Why should I?"

"I said answer the question," the Captain said again, aiming his Predator at the Krogan's head plates.

With unpredictable speed for the large alien, Inamorda launched onto his feet and twisted the pistol with the snapping pop of every bone in the captain's hand. His peril was complete when the krogan grabbed him, using him as a shield, when one of the troopers fired his shotgun. The captain died instantly as his midsection was torn open. Not wasting any time, Inamorda shoved the corpse into the trooper and had enough time to turn as the other fired a shotgun round into his sternum. The krogan merely grimaced before he snatched the shotgun out of the other trooper's hands, like he had no grip on it whatsoever, and repaid the trooper who had shot him with a pointblank shot to the chest. The last surviving agent, pinned under the captain's dead body, received a shotgun blast to the head.

The mercenary, covered in the blood of Cerberus and his own, gripped the pistol and shotgun in each hand, and charged towards the quickly mobilized group of Cerberus soldiers. It was a valiant attempt, but their rounds ripped through his natural plate armor with blood splattering on the floor. Despite redundant nervous systems and multiple organs, no krogan was immune to that much gunfire. The pistol fell from his hand as he steadied himself on the ground. A flood of blood regurgitated from his mouth, but he glanced back as the door as the lock switched from red to green. The krogan managed to give a small nod, a small gesture that spoke volumes of respect between the two, which Brandon returned.

The passionate, guttural roar from the krogan embodied the last ounce of strength which brought him to his feet to fire one final blast from his shotgun before a dozen more shots cut through his body. Unknowingly to him in his final act, Inamorda had gotten most of Cerberus in one spot. It created a perfect firing line for Bailey's team entering the dock, but also for Brandon's twin pistols, which he'd just thumbed the safeties off.

The team erupted and pummeled the bulk of Cerberus' forces by the time the fallen krogan hit the floor. Bau overloaded the turret, turning it into a miniature bomb, and scattered a group of agents. An engineer tried to grab his pistol, but before he could aim, a batarian and a human tackled him to the floor. Then more and more refugees started charging, some even into the barrels of automatic weapons, with nothing but their bare hands and yells and subdued the remaining troops.

"Alright, boys. Let's get those comms back," Bailey yelled to his officers. "Quintis. Aultus. Grab their guns and hold this position. Anyone wearing Cerberus colors, you put em down, right?"

"Yes, sir," the pair said in unison.

Bailey turned to Bau and Brandon, "Good job, you two. Things go well, you'll hear me on the radio."

"Good luck," Brandon hollered as the two groups parted.

They jumped in the first elevator they saw and started their ascent.

"I always wanted to see the Council Chambers," Brandon quipped.

It evoked a long sigh from Bau, "Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not where we're going."

"I thought the council would be held up in their giant tower."

"No meetings were scheduled there today. They have personal guards and several panic rooms for emergencies, so we'll be checking each one at a time."

Brandon waited for Bau to say which one, despite knowing the obvious answer.

"The embassies," Bau said, and was unsurprised by Brandon's quick stiffen. "Now you know why I wanted you to stay behind."

From then on, stood at the ready while they waited to reach the upper levels; the only accompaniment was the soft tunes of the elevator.

"I hate this music. This gonna take long?" Brandon asked incredulously.

"No more than five minutes," Bau answered.

* * *

I'm back, school is over, and I'm writing again. I'll admit, this was a longer, ongoing chapter, but I decided to split it here (loading screen) so I could have this out. The other half needs a bit more time and I'm a little rusty after returning from a few month hiatus. Enjoy.


	17. Ch17: When the Levee Breaks

It took ten minutes before the elevator stopped. Bau took the left and Brandon took the right. No enemies were in sight, so Bau waved Brandon to follow his lead down the deserted presidium. Even though the area hadn't been visibly hit, it was just as unnerving to see an empty hallway stretched ahead. The Citadel never slept; there was the morning shift, night shift, graveyard shift. If no one was around then something bad had happened, or was about to. At least Saren and his geth wrecked the place when they made their entrance. Funny enough, that got Brandon thinking of a way to ignore the disturbing atmosphere.

"Hey, Bau. Did you ever know Saren?"

While the salarian didn't stop walking, he quirked a curious glance at the unexpected question, "Not personally. Only by reputation. The spectres don't necessarily interact with each other."

"I'm not saying you guys had monthly synergy meetings, but you never had a project where you needed more than one?"

"If you're a spectre, you only need one," Bau said, with a slight hint of self-righteousness, "But I once did a mission with his younger apprentice. Nihlus Kryik."

This time, it was Brandon caught off guard by the unexpected answer, "Wait, you worked with Nihlus?"

"Just one mission. A high political figure's daughter had been kidnapped and was held for ransom and political leverage. Due to the nature of the situation, and to keep things under wraps, both of us had been assigned to retrieve her and neutralize the threat. Kryik drew them out as a distraction. Meanwhile, I infiltrated their base and security systems."

"He took them on solo?"

"Time was a factor, as well as secrecy. He managed by placing different weapons in strategic spots and engaged the enemy on all sides. He was so fast and effective that the enemy was convinced they were against a bigger force than merely one man. By the time they chose to retreat back to the base, their security clearances had been changed and I had retrieved the daughter. He was an exceptional soldier. Very brave, truly gifted."

Bau furrowed his brow as he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment, "I was deeply disheartened when I heard of his death. Even moreso when I learned it was a betrayal."

The whole line of questions backfired. Brandon couldn't help but remember the turian roaming the _Normandy_; it felt more prestigious than having a councilor onboard. His presence never needed an introduction, yet there was never a sense of ego. Perhaps it came through in his skills and lone wolf style, but never in how he interacted with the crew. It made it all the more gut wrenching when Brandon took part with the group who recovered his body... and Jenkins. All that larger than life aura reduced to nothing.

"Some of us on the _Normandy_ felt that."

"If things had been different, he would've been I fine mentor to your former commander," Bau added.

The idea felt so far removed. Everything since Eden Prime seemed so ingrained that Brandon, and everyone else on that ship for that matter, couldn't even imagine a 'what if' without Saren, the geth, and the Reapers.

The conversation stopped for the rest of the walk until Bau led them inside one of the waiting rooms below the embassy. No bodies, but the disarray of dropped datapads, packages, and briefcases acted as the evidence of Cerberus' arrival. Just under a small balcony in the room, glass fragments littered the ground from where the safety banisters above would have been. They also noticed several pairs of black spots which had turned the once white floor black.

"What are these burn marks?" Asked Brandon.

"Jet boots. I thought only turians used those. Above us is the hallway for the embassy and spectre office. They must have come up from the lower floor after the explosion. I doubt the elevator is operational."

Bau started for the doorway that led to the outer walkway and began to climb up the rectangular flora boxes.

"Isn't this a bit undignified for a salarian?" Brandon joked as Bau heaved himself onto the upper level.

"Shut up and take my hand."

With a quick run up, Brandon grabbed Bau's outstretched arm and was pulled up. They found themselves on a private terrace overlooking the lakes. Despite the view, the sounds of distant gunshots and explosions echoed all around them, bouncing around the Presidium walls. They proceeded from the lounge area, passing a private bay sheltering a very high end violet skycar, and into a very spacious office.

"Which one of the councilors gets this kind of setup?"

"That would be Udina," Bau answered.

It might have been a slight twinge of jealousy on Brandon's part, but the office was huge. Excluding the private balcony, the interior space in his ship would only fill half this place. The large desk alone stretched nearly a third the size of one of his quarters in the _Razgriz_. However, when they neared the red locked door, two bodies were sprawled on the floor.

"Sparatus and Tevos' personal bodyguards," Bau said as he leaned down to inspect them. "If they're here, then they never made it to the panic room."

Brandon half listened to Bau as he observed the bodies. It became a flurry of déjà vu; the asari commando had her throat slit while the more heavily armored turian revealed a deep gash, expertly plunged between the plates of his armor. The strikes were precise, deadly, and too familiar.

"Cerberus assassins," Brandon said whilst taking the dead turian's M-55 Argus off his back. "It was quick and quiet. They didn't even draw their guns. No one got off a single round."

"What else do you see wrong with this picture?" Bau asked, standing up once more.

Brandon was confused for a moment as he looked around. Everything appeared normal…

His eyes widened in understanding.

"The office doesn't have so much as a scratch. The glass windows aren't even busted."

"Right. And the door is still locked. If Cerberus took control, why did they need to send assassins? They could have blown the door open, but it appears they didn't even try to enter."

Brandon took another look at the desk, and then the computer, "Udina strikes me as the kind of guy who keeps itineraries. If we know where the councilors were when the shooting started, it might give us a better idea of where to find them."

He was already leaning over the keyboard and brought up the login screen before Bau could reply. Despite his best efforts, however, every combination Brandon typed failed.

"Let me handle this," Bau said while unceremoniously nudging the human out of the way. In two attempts, the salarian had the computer unlocked. "Goto could hack personal databanks of CEOs, did she never teach you high level clearances?"

Her name… it was like knife through his soul that tore up his insides. It jogged the part of his mind he'd been suppressing since he learned where they were going, and now there was no going back.

Brandon hastily pushed himself from the desk.

"I'm going to make sure the rest of the floor is secure," he lied, but couldn't unlock the door. "Will you let me out, Bau?"

Lying to the spectre was such a waste considering he could probably see right through him. Still, the salarian tapped a button on the computer to turn the lock green.

"Good luck," he said quietly, as Brandon left the room.

The rifle stayed firmly gripped as he proceeded alone towards the stairs. While bullet holes clustered the hallway, nothing compared to the lobby. Bodies scattered the floor, mostly civilians. The burned ones died from the explosion and never felt the fires scorch their skin, he hoped. Others had visible wounds from rifles. Pieces of envirosuit littered the area from whichever volus' suit lost pressure.

Despite the horror and destruction, though, Brandon's vision stay narrowed on the remains of the office building.

The fires had died, leaving nothing but burnt metal and black ash. Splinters of melted glass coated the radius of the building and made small, faint cracks as he passed through what used to be the entrance. The inside of the office was unrecognizable, only a mound of discolored pulp being what remained of Zymandis. Brandon covered his mouth from the ash coated air and ventured further to try to find a route or trace of escape. A small crack, not of glass but of snapping circuitry, crunched under his boot. Looking underneath it made his heart stop.

An omni-tool. Or what was left of one. He couldn't even touch it; it was too hot to reach for. The markings had been charred, but he could make out the model stamped in metal:

Savant X.

Beads of sweat ran down his back, and it wasn't from the still sweltering heat of the building. Every thought wouldn't dare to continue to search the rest of the floor, but his gaze was drawn to something in the corner…

* * *

The door couldn't open fast enough when Brandon stormed back into Udina's office. He'd been so quick Bau jolted and nearly aimed his gun.

"What'd you find!?" Brandon demanded.

Bau blinked twice, then read out his findings, "Udina had a massage at 0900, Earth status reports at 1030, then a meeting with the councilors here with Kaidan Alenko. A request for spectre nomination at… 1400."

"Alenko? If he was here, then he's probably protecting them."

"That's not the issue, Davis. If they were under attack, the guards would have had their weapons ready. Theirs were holstered. I can only conclude they were attacked before the explosions started," Bau quickly dismissed him. "More troubling is only two of the other councilors had replied for the meeting. Spectre nominations require all presiding councilors for approval, and yet Valern hadn't."

As he listened, Brandon began hastily pacing back and forth through the office, "Something stinks here. Something stinks to high hell. So where do we go now?"

"Well… if the bombs started, the safest place would've been C-Sec."

"Then I guess we are heading to C-Sec. Any word from Bailey?"

"Nothing, and the coms are still down. We might have to field the possibility his team was overwhelmed. If we find an elevator-"

"We don't have time for another freaking elevator!"

Bau froze at the sudden outburst as Brandon grew increasingly agitated. The circular trance stopped when he eyed the deep violet skycar and quickly rushed towards it. Bau jumped from the computer terminal, guessing his intentions.

"Brandon, you can't take that. That's Udina's personal-"

The shattering of the side window halted Bau's sentence, and he sighed in defeat. He watched silently as Brandon climbed into the now opened skycar and activated the onboard systems. After a mere moment it lifted off the platform with a soft hum. As determined as Brandon was, he waited until Bau finally hopped in.

"I know for a fact that you could have unlocked that door-!"

The spectre couldn't finish as the skycar jolted forward and nosedived, near vertically, off the balcony. The inertial dampeners kept the G-forces from crushing their chests, but the view of the incoming ground encouraged Bau to press his hands against the dash. They leveled out and the engine rapidly wound up, accompanied by a high pitched whine, while the Presidium blurred through the glass around them.

"Last time I let a human drive..." Bau remarked dryly.

"Hostiles are going to be on the perimeter if they haven't been taken down," Brandon said, ignoring the salarian's little plea.

"I admire your commitment, but they'll have the advantage in both numbers and firepower. Charging in won't work, we need a plan."

Despite the unknown perils ahead, Brandon's stone faced look softened slightly, "Remember that plan you had with the late-Nihlus Krylik?"

* * *

A group of eight Cerberus troops had locked down the entrances and exits surrounding the C-Sec office on the Presidium. As they meandered on patrol, the shadow of a descending skycar caught their attention. All immediately took aim at the source with their assorted pistols and rifles. The car slowly came to a halt, hovering over the armed troops, and then descended with its passenger side facing the group of men. It touched the ground, the engine cut off, and then silence.

The commander of the squad, the centurion, signaled to one of his men holding a large shield. The guardian acknowledged and slowly walked towards the skycar; the rest stayed vigilante with their weapons ready.

"One warning. Exit the car with your hands raised!"

No response.

The centurion motioned for the squad to start encroaching on the car, taking them further from the C-Sec entrance and the walls they'd been using for cover. The guardian approached the vehicle, reached for the door mechanism, and it opened to no one sitting in the passenger or driver's seat-

"Halt!"

The entire squad whipped back around to see Jondum Bau, who somehow appeared behind them, with his pistol drawn. No quarter was given as the Cerberus troops instantly fired at the lone salarian. The incessant gunfire struck the ground and floor all around, and sent him collapsing to his knees. The shooting stopped, leaving Cerberus the chance to observe the seemingly dead spectre. However, they froze in their tracks when the salarian stood up, visibly unharmed, and started chuckling before fizzling out of sight.

During this charade, Brandon emerged from the back of the skycar with M-55 in hand. He let the sights find the leader of the squad and settled just below his neck. He could have felt spineless to shoot an officer in the back, but Cerberus didn't qualify.

"It's a hologram-" The centurion tried to say before a solid burst snapped through his throat.

The leader dropped to the ground and next to follow was the guardian only three feet away. He tried to swivel his shield but his backside was too exposed from rifle shot at point blank range. In the time two of the squad were killed, the other men scattered and tried establish fire towards the skycar. Unfortunately, their disorientation grew when another the real spectre Bau joined the fight. Banking on the distraction, he sneaked behind one of the assault troopers and gripped him around his neck. At the same time, his omni-blade glowed as he nearly decapitated the trooper.

Not missing a beat, Brandon jumped out from the skycar and started encroaching on the remaining troopers, still letting off from the rifle. The bead remained low so the full force of the gun's three round bursts hit each target. When the rifle alerted empty, he tossed it and quickly drew _Excalibur_ to plunge two shots per each remaining target. Turning to help Bau, he got a front row seat to watch another trooper who attempted to stab the spectre with his charged baton receive Bau's omni-blade through his core. He dropped like a rag doll when the blade receded, all the while Bau casually swiped off the blood on his armor.

Neither wasted time to admire their handiwork, and both stormed up the stairs into an empty common area full of tables and chairs; no other bodies or enemies to speak of.

"The Executor's office should be just above here," Bau gestured to the upper floor's window.

Suddenly, a small movement in the corner of Brandon's eye quickly forced him to draw his sights on a chair that minutely swiveled. It seemed innocent, but with cloaked assassins, Brandon's nerves stayed hyperaware. His instincts proved correct when a silhouette formed, bearing very expensive robes and was far too limber to be a human.

"Councilor Valern?" exclaimed Bau.

"Bau! It's Udina. He's staging a coup. The other councilors are-"

Before Valern could finish, Bau also aimed his gun in his direction.

"What!? Why-"

"Valern. Don't. Move," Bau said slowly.

The councilor didn't move. Unbeknownst to him, another cloaked being had unveiled behind him. The assailant had a palm blaster charged and aimed square on Valern's back.

"A councilor, a spectre, and a traitor. My day just gets better," the assassin mocked.

If his presence wasn't instant recognition, then the voice cemented this was the same Cerberus agent from Kahje, only now a visor creased his eyes and there was evidence of implants from his thicker muscle mass.

"He's going to kill me," Valern squeaked.

"Don't worry, you're going to be alright," Bau assured him.

Meanwhile, Brandon shifted to attempt a shot at the assassin. As he moved, so did swordsman. And with Valern in between their paths, the stalemate dragged with each professional staying on their toes.

"I didn't expect to see you again," the assassin directed to the other human.

"I'm surprised you can see me with half your eyes."

"Anything can be replaced," he boasted. "You should know, your last partner was much prettier."

At that point, Brandon moved his sights to where the councilor and the assassin could share the same bullet, and while there was no definite it'd make it all the way through, any method to kill him became incredibly tempting. Even as he clenched his jaw firmly shut, the rage that crept on Brandon's expression was clearly evident for the swordsman to chuckle.

"Is that why your girlfriend isn't here to fight for you? She finally found a real man?"

Now, his finger moved from the side of his gun and slowly wrapped around the trigger. The assassin just smiled arrogantly; totally confident, or maybe just crazy.

"You think you can beat me? The odds are against you."

Cutting through the tense standoff, the glass above them shattered from an echoing gunshot, but it didn't come from anyone in the room. A figure dropped from above, wearing that famous black and red armor, and brandished a Carnifex pistol upon her landing.

"Think the odds just got better!" Shouted Commander Jane Shepard.

Garrus Vakarian and Liara T'Soni kept their weapons trained from above; optical sights of both their sniper rifle and pistol waiting for a clear shot.

"Five on one, pal. It's over," Shepard declared.

The outnumbered and outmatched swordsman snickered at this whole affair with his hand gently sliding up his blade's handle, "No, now it's fun."

The sneer was wiped clean off his face, however, when, at point blank, a Phalanx pistol unfolded at his temple. During Shepard's grand entrance, a very determined Thane Krios had stealthily maneuvered behind the Cerberus agent.

Between Shepard's descent from above and Thane appearing out of nowhere, Brandon found himself partially bemused by the sudden turn of events, but reality quickly came rushing back when Thane's shot came too late. The assassin pushed his arm out of the way and exchanged heated blows with the terminally ill drell.

Bau immediately rushed to the councilor and pulled him back.

"Get him outta here," Shepard yelled to the salarians.

The other spectre swiftly rushed Valern out of the room without a word.

"Damn it! They're all over the place, I don't have a shot," Brandon cursed as he tried to aim _Excalibur_ at the assassin without success.

The assassin flipped Thane over his shoulder, but the drell simply flowed with the motion and rolled back onto his feet. By the time they'd separated, the assassin had cloaked again. Thane withdrew his pistol while Brandon and Shepard kept their weapons primed for another attack. Though they couldn't see him, they all heard a sound of a sword unsheathing.

Thane was the first to see the assassin circling and fired repeatedly. Brandon had to admit, while Thane's body had deteriorated since the _Normandy_, it was impressive to see the drell deflect the attacker's blade, stun him with a kick to his side, then launch him across the room with a fistful of biotics.

As soon as the assassin smacked into the ground, Brandon moved make the shot to end this, but the assassin jumped back to his feet and aimed his palm blaster. It felt as if his arm got pulled from his shoulder, then realized Shepard had grabbed and heaved him from the incoming shot. It zoomed straight passed and sent both he and Shepard to the floor. Thane glanced back at his friends, and then charged the assassin. Brandon watched Thane leap to dodge the next blast, but would forever remember seeing the blade puncture out the back his friend. Time froze for a moment as Thane dropped his pistol, and, with a wide smile, the assassin expunged his sword before retreating.

"Thane!" Shepard yelled as she watched Thane stumble, and immediately stormed after his killer. Brandon followed quickly in tow. Down a flight of stairs to the outside of the building, the assassin boarded a waiting skycar and sped off to avoid the barrage of pistol shots from Shepard and Brandon.

"Shepard…"

Both turned to see Thane had managed to make his way down the stairs. However, as he tried to keep his balance, he collapsed against the wall and slid to the ground. Shepard was instantly to her friend's side.

"I have time," he waved her off. "Catch him."

"Go," cried Brandon. "I'll take care of him."

Shepard seemed hesitant until Garrus and Liara arrived in a squad car. She silently conceded and tossed Brandon a medi-gel pack before rushing to the car. She sped off after the assassin while Brandon pressed the gel into Thane's wound.

"Not even a scratch, buddy. You're going to be alright," he said. There was a slight of relief as little by little the bleeding lessened.

"Good to see… you survived this long," the drell wheezed tiredly.

"I should be the one saying that to you," Brandon continued, trying too hard to sound optimistic. "You should be in bed when you're sick, and not only were you taking on the Collectors but I walk in and see you're still touching gloves with hired guns? That wasn't enough of a feat? Can't seem to quit, can you?"

"I thought Joker was the one with the inappropriate antics," Thane chuckled, wincing from the pain the action caused.

"Davis!" Came the yelled voice of Bau as he rushed to Brandon's side. Valern was with him but kept a small distance. "How bad?"

"We need to get him to a hospital now," he said hurriedly.

Bau noticed the wound on the drell's chest and the pooling of blood on the wall, then put his arm under Thane's shoulder so they could both lift the drell. Both men hauled the wounded, former assassin into Udina's car. Bau took the controls with Valern in the passenger seat. Brandon stayed in the backseat and tended to Thane. Every time the drell breathed, he grimaced in pain, and since he was losing blood he breathed faster than normal.

"Bau, you have any medi-gel?"

"Nothing."

"Councilor?"

He didn't answer, and didn't appear too keen on looking Brandon in the eye about it.

"Valern, if you have a pack, give it to me-"

Thane clutched his chest and coughed badly, spurting blood all over the upholstery of the skycar.

"Shit! Punch it, Bau!"

Brandon angled Thane's head so he wouldn't choke on his own blood, and turned to Valern again, "Councilor give me your pack or I swear to whatever god you believe in, I'll give you a serious reason to use it on yourself."

With that threat, Valern handed over the medi-gel and Brandon quickly gave Thane a heavier dose into his system, anything to numb the excruciating discomfort.

The transit landed on the emergency pad of the hospital. Bau rushed ahead with his weapon ready if Cerberus still occupied it, but luckily, the terrorist group appeared to have been pushed out. Valern followed soon after, leaving just Brandon and Thane.

"My son, Kolyat. Find him. Make sure he's alright."

"No, you're gonna do that yourself. You can tell him how you saved the world, again. You protected the councilor and will be the big hero."

"Bravado is the opposite of what true professionals practice. That assassin should be embarrassed; a terminally ill drell managed to stop him from reaching his target." Thane strained to speak, "But it wasn't just to save the councilor. If I hadn't charged that assassin, he would have bypassed me and went for you and Shepard."

This time Brandon couldn't find the words. Thane noticed, and the tiniest of a smirk came on his lips, "It's what I would have done."

The drell seemed content with his fate; not so much with the end, but the reasons for why. But now, his headed started drooping and his breaths grew too shallow.

Brandon raised his head and tapped his cheek. No response came.

"Thane? Thane!"

Brandon lugged him out of the car as a gurney quickly came with a mixture of hospital staff and plain clothes volunteers.

"Please, sir. You'll have to stay back," the head nurse ordered Brandon after putting an oxygen mask on Thane.

Brandon got out their way so they could help him, but what made his face fall was how motionless Thane had become as they wheeled him into the ward. It paralyzed his limbs and his feet felt cemented to the floor. An image of a Kelly flashed across his eyes as she laid in that same lifeless—probably the last word he'd describe her—pose.

And then Kasumi…

_Every thought wouldn't dare to continue to search the rest of the floor, but his gaze was drawn to something in the corner…_

_It's outer coating had shriveled and turned gray from the massive heat, but the flexible metallic innards were still there. One of the clamps remained attached, having must have sheared from the suit it was connected with. The entire inside filled his nostrils with an aroma of wet dog, which could only be burnt hair, and nowhere near as pleasant as it should be. It was Kasumi's hood._

_No screams or curses came from Brandon's mouth, nor the capacity for a single thought. Just pure shock blazed within his eyes as the image burned into his retinas. Even though it was still warm, he felt nothing as he balled the garment in his fists._

The sounds of gunshots and explosions echoing around him, bouncing around the Presidium walls, woke him from the memory.

"I used my spectre status to authorize priority attendance for the drell, Davis?"

His boots finally released their hold, and Brandon stalked towards the car.

"Where are you going?" Bau asked.

"After him," Brandon replied coldly as he replaced a fresh thermal clip for _Excalibur_. The internal slides sprung forward with an audible snap of scraping steel. "Bailey told us to protect the council, didn't he? Orders are orders."

"No, the real reason is all over your face," Bau said. He didn't bother waiting for a rebuttal from the human and grabbed Brandon's lapel and held him in place.

"Let go of my coat, Bau," Brandon growled as he stared the spectre down, "You plan to stop me, you're gonna have to shoot me, and if that's how I end, I'd rather have it be from an enemy than a friend."

The human and salarian stayed locked in a hard stare; Bau's stern eyes against Brandon's dead ones. Neither backed down in the intense deadlock.

"You know you can't beat him," Bau finally admitted.

"Maybe I can get even," Brandon spat.

The tension was interrupted by a voice on their radios.

_"Bau? Davis? You hearing me?"_

Bau dropped Brandon's coat and tapped his earpiece, "I hear you, Bailey. Go ahead."

_"C-Sec is back under our control. Been reestablishing the network channels. The other councilors are being taken to a shuttle pad on the Presidium. Shepard is on the station and is chasing after them and Cerberus assassins."_

"Copy that, we're on it-!"

Bau couldn't finish before his head felt Brandon's fist, effectively putting him to the ground cold. The soldier didn't even mumble an apology before jumping back in the skycar and leaving him behind.

* * *

As he flew overhead the Presidium, Brandon could see the apparent aftermath of Shepard's work: Dead Cerberus and Atlas debris.

_"I've got a fix on the Council's position. They are heading to a shuttle pad above Shalmar plaza. Sending the coordinates to your car," Bailey said._

"Roger that, Bailey," Brandon replied evenly.

_"Where's Bau?"_

"He stayed behind to safeguard Valern, now what's Shepard location?"

There was a slight pause before Bailey continued.

_"Her shuttle got shot down a few stories below. She's forced to go on foot and just reached the elevators."_

"Okay, I'll meet her at the shuttle pad."

The car sped up and pulled a thirty degree climb, completely against driving lane protocols. As Brandon approached the destination, three figures ran out to the balcony on the level below the specified pad. The closer he got, he realized it was the assassin and two similar female agents. They threw something which clung to the underbelly of the shuttle, only to turn the craft into a massive fireball.

"Bailey, they just blew up the shuttle. They're trying to corner the Council."

_"Damn it. Shepard should be right behind the councilors. I'm sending reinforcements, but if those assassins get in range then..."_

The chatter slowly phased out as Brandon disconnected his earpiece and landed the skycar on the walkway. He exited the car, the length of his coat draping shortly after, and marched with an ease that outwardly showed no emotion. His muscles were tranquil and relaxed, a serene expression adorning his face, yet his lowly, brown eyes were devoid of all spark. The silent, barely controlled fury that had stayed locked and churning in his gut slowly consumed and spread through his core. This had gone beyond an emotional reaction. This turned into a mentally prepared decision:

He planned to kill them all. And if not, he sure as hell planned to keep them here.

The three swordsmen didn't seem aware of the soldier's presence, or simply dismissed him, as they ran towards the elevator. _Excalibur_ unsheathed from its holster, and stretched out to put the left most woman in its sights. After a calm squeeze of the trigger, her body went limp and collapsed from the smoking hole through her head. This grabbed the attention of the other two, who immediately covered their presence with their barriers as Brandon fired in their direction. As powerful and accurate as his shots were, each impact merely sent ripples across their spheres. The final shot locked the slide back, and Brandon hurried to grab a clip. As quick as he could reload, both enemies had already disappeared.

He strode forward with slow and steady steps, ensuring to keep his back towards the railing of the balcony. This wasn't Kahje. It wasn't some unknown. Brandon knew who he was dealing with. And while that meant letting them make the first move, he could force them into his field of view—he was done waiting to get stabbed in the back.

A body materialized as one of the assassins swung downward with her sword, but she used one hand and exposed her midsection. Brandon quickly charged into her space, avoiding the edge of the blade, and slung one arm around her waist whilst grabbing her wrist with the other. To complete this faux moment of intimacy, he violently spun her around until her sword arm had twisted behind her back. Her agony forced her to drop her weapon, and was trumped when two gunshots pressed into her back blew out from her chest. After she fell from his grasp, no empathy was spared when Brandon put a third shot through her head.

Blood from the resulting tango started to drip just over Brandon's left eye, but, despite the gash, he managed to see a flash of light slam into his chest. It sent him crashing to the floor with his gun falling out of his hand. There was no initial pain, the impact spread over his vest like he'd been punched by a sledgehammer; however, the vest started getting hot to the point where his chest burned. Immediately, he ripped his shirt open and observed the plasma searing and burrowing into the protective steel. He reached for the clamps of the vest and it managed to come off, but the melting metal left blobs of heated scrap embedded below his sternum.

"I was expecting Shepard. You just keep interrupting things, don't you?" The assassin snorted as he revealed himself and powered down his palm blaster, frowning in disappointment at Brandon writhing on the floor. "At least your green friend could put up a fight. I can't even pretend to enjoy this."

As he spoke, he picked up _Excalibur_ and weighed it in his hand…

"Well, I just might."

… before tossing it over the railing.

Brandon clutched his chest and tried to push himself up, but the burns made his skin scream every time he moved. It made him nearly scrunch into himself, even as he endured the ever increasing screech of metal dragging on metal. The assassin guided the tip of his sword along the floor before finally swiveling it for the final blow; his victim was the only audience to watch his swordplay.

"And don't worry about your girlfriend. She and I have much more in common. When I find her, I'll enjoy learning her better."

Then kill the swipe came across…

But the result was a harsh clash of metal and stainless. The sword dug into the frame and trigger guard of _Arondight_, cross drawn by Brandon.

Despite stopping the blade, Brandon's grip shook against the assassin's cybernetics. The assassin didn't even try to counter with a follow up, knowing he was dominantly stronger, and toyed with him without barely raising his breath.

"What did she see in a pathetic mess like you?"

Brandon breathed rapidly and struggled in a futile attempt against his strength, but slowly saw the blade inch closer and closer.

"Or wait, did you let her die?"

A smirk crawled across the swordsman's face which fueled Brandon's rage to no end, and made him further force against the assassin's weapon. The piercing glare conveyed answered the assassin's question, "Oh, that poor little corpse of a thief…"

"You... son of a-!"

Shots erupted from _Arondight,_ right next to the swordsman's face, and he hissed from the deafening blasts next to his ear. No longer gloating, he tilted and pushed his sword across the trigger guard and its edge sent a stinging line across Brandon's right arm. The searing sensation evoked an involuntary cry, but now their 'swords' were no longer fused and both were at each other's back. The blade wielding foe jammed the handle of his weapon harshly into Brandon's side. All the air left his lungs as he felt bone cave, and the pain stumbled him forward. Now, he was in fatal range of his enemy's blade, and Brandon had no intention to avoid it; the attack would put him at point blank range for his own weapon. He twisted around, expecting the coming blade, he squeezed off a shot that moved only smoke. Instead of going for the kill, the assassin retreated towards Brandon's stolen skycar.

"Don't run away from me!"

Even with his vision blurring, Brandon gripped _Arondight_ with his unhurt arm and unleashed repeated shots that ricocheted around the assassin until he dove into the car. It launched out of range by the time shot after shot spent the thermal clip; the steaming cylinder ejected into a puddle of blood that hissed on contact.

The Presidium seemed to get quiet as the gunshots finished their song through the station. A long breath exited Brandon's body, and painfully took in another. It was then that he noticed the continuous tap tap tap of blood trickling on the floor. He clutched his sliced arm, in the futile attempt to stop the blood streaming down and turning his hand into a crimson mess. Crossing his arm made the burns of his chest cringe while his legs continually disobeyed orders from his brain to keep him upright and stable.

"Freeze!" A voice echoed in his ears, though its authoritative tone was familiar.

More blood had pooled in his eye, and all he could make out were several hazy figures approaching him. On instinct, he tried to raise his gun, but for some reason it had gotten so heavy. The bead barely made it up to his eye before his knees buckled under him. Yet, the ground didn't come like he expected. Instead, arms reached around him and obstructed his descent before things went dark.

"No no no. Bailey, get us to Huerta!"

"Aye, Shepard."


	18. Ch18: One for My Baby

The moments after faded and dissolved like a hard night of shore leave. There was falling, yet no landing. Everything became blurry images and drowning voices. At one point, Brandon realized he'd been shoved in the back seat of a squad car; he didn't remember getting arrested. Angry shouts were directed at him to stay awake, but the more he tried, the faster he fell asleep. Next, the floor was going by, yet his legs weren't moving. In fact, he could feel the tips of his boots being dragged behind him. The unmistakable numbness of a medi-gel dosage had been the only thing he recognized for sure before everything turned dark.

The first thing he coherently recalled coming out his haze was the chatter; not one or two voices, but a commotion of many people. Some spoke calmly while others sounded desperate and frantic. Terrible coughs and moans were accompanied by high pitched machines.

His eyelids cracked and immediately narrowed from the light coming through the large windows of a lobby. A dulled pain irritated from the cut on his forehead. When he reached for it he realized not only had it stopped bleeding and been bandaged, but discovered a tube connected to his left arm. He followed the line to see the blood pack hooked to an intravenous on movable pole. His coat was gone, as well as his weapons. Only his boots and pants remained, with an array of bandages taped across his chest.

"You're awake," he heard from a heavy European accent. A short haired redhead approached him in a green medical uniform.

"Mr. Davis, I'm Doctor Michel. You are at Huerta Memorial. We've been treating you since Commander Shepard brought you here."

"Shepard? Where is Shepard!? And Thane! Is he okay!?"

Michel immediately intervened when Brandon tried pulling himself to his feet with the I.V. pole.

"Please, Mr. Davis. I have to ask you to sit down."

He did, but not voluntarily. The pressure in the side of his chest left him slightly short of breath, joined by the harsh stinging on his sternum which slouched him back to the bench.

"Shit, what's the damage?"

"You were in shock when you arrived, and to make matters worse, you had lost a lot of blood. First degree burns—nearly second—on your chest blistered your skin, so I removed the melted metal. I have an ointment for you if the blisters get discomforting, but it should be fine in two weeks. You also suffered two broken ribs. Ice the area and restrict activities for the next six weeks if you expect them to heal. Don't use compression wraps, they'll dampen your breathing. I'll also provide you with deep breathing exercises to keep your lungs expanding."

She moved forward and gestured to his bandaged right arm, "When we removed your coat, the skin and muscles had been severely gashed. You're lucky the slice didn't hit the bone or you would have lost the whole arm. Cybernetics have been grafted along your biceps and triceps to keep the muscle tissue together and stapled to the bone."

"Oh… is that all?"

"And a small cut on the head," the doctor concluded, before activating her omni-tool, "You are going to be restricted to the hospital for a few days to ensure the cybernetics are doing their job. Unfortunately, we can't provide any painkillers. Our supply is being rationed."

Brandon nodded, begrudgingly, and observed his surroundings. What would have been the waiting area had been transformed into a makeshift emergency room. Every bit of space that could be used managed to get filled to some capacity to help the victims. Surgeries resorted to being performed on transport gurneys.

"What are these people doing here?" he asked after taking the scene.

"Between the refugees and the attack, the influx was far greater than we could have anticipated. I'm not about turn away people, but we needed to make do with what we have. I feel for our staff, most have been doing triple shifts," Michel replied, before pausing and swallowing a lump in her throat, "Others knew some of the wounded or dead coming in."

Hastily covered bodies had been piled in a section of the room to be identified later. Blue and red blood covered the floor. Whenever there was purple, Brandon couldn't help but wonder if they had mixed or another asari had died horribly.

"Doc, how's he doing?"

Shepard, he knew that voice, but there was something wrong in it. Something he hadn't heard since Virmire.

Shepard came from the surgery wing, and her posture was too deliberately straight to be natural. However, for all her efforts, she couldn't hide the welled-up tears in her eyes.

"He's just woken. All vitals appear normal," said Michel.

"Good. Get Davis treated right away, doctor. I'm not losing any more friends today," the commander said, with a barely noticeable choke in it.

"Of course, Spectre Shepard," Michel replied.

She wasn't the brave commander in that moment; it was the look of someone who lost a friend and was trying to keep it together. And in that instant, Brandon knew who it had to be. Shepard discreetly wiped her face along her forearm, and at the end of that motion, her mask of authority set firmly back into place before anyone else would notice. Brandon couldn't help but feel for her as she walked away. Any one of Shepard's crew knew she would always be strong for the galaxy. It was her job, her duty. However, few recognized she was still just a person. Those special few were anyone who served beside her.

"Doctor Michel, we lost the patient in the surgery wing," said an orderly, "Shall we transfer another from the queue?"

"Give the son a few more moments, then send in the next," Michel answered with a defeated sigh, "Mr. Davis, are you alright? Do you need anything?"

"… just… a glass of water would be fine."

She made a note to the orderly before moving to another patient. Better for Brandon, he just wanted to be left alone. The whole truth, he wished he hadn't woken up.

* * *

His hands cradled the glass he'd been given; fingers idly tapping on the sides while the contents remained to be touched. Time dissipated as he watched people enter and leave, not always alive. Everywhere he looked felt like a hole in his stomach. Dead C-sec officers. Dead civilians. People who shouldn't be. Continually, he had to remind himself the culprits responsible weren't A.I. death machines, but his own race.

"Fucking Cerberus," he muttered silently.

He rubbed his bandaged arm. At first touch, it seemed normal, but the harder he pushed the less like skin it felt. The layer of cybernetics remained pliable but had a hardened quality that felt tougher than the muscle it connected. It was a common medical procedure, he knew. Garrus had it implanted on his face. Shepard... who knew just how much she had installed. However, the idea of such an invasive procedure to patch him up, because he wasn't strong or fast enough, dampened what little pride Brandon had left. Nothing but shame filled his core, yet it left an emptiness that made him stare absently at nothing. His body managed to survive, but his soul tumbled into a deeper, depressed state.

"It's about justice. The man is a traitor and a murderer. You saw what he did to your wife! To my husband!"

"And didn't bat an eyelash. He's evil, there's no doubt. But the asshole's in custody now. Killing him won't bring anyone back."

The argument managed to echo over the racket already taking place in the lobby. Near the exit towards the elevator, a man and a woman were going back and forth about something. Brandon surmised that they were volunteers from their civilian clothes that were covered in various colors of dried blood. The woman shushed the man and tried to discreetly point to a package behind her back. Even as weak and tired as he was, Brandon could spot the outline of a pistol, especially as poorly concealed as it was.

On instinct, his mind went straight to threat mode and he heaved himself up. Whether it was the blood transfusion or lack of rest, he felt dizzy in the first few steps, but he ushered the little strength he had to move himself over to the couple. As soon as he was close enough, he fake tripped and clutched at his I.V. pole. The volunteers both stopped their bickering and grabbed Brandon to stop his stumble. It did attract a few other orderlies, but as soon as the other staff saw the two volunteers catch him, they turned back to their other patients. With that many backs turned, it gave Brandon the chance to reach around and snag the weapon from behind the woman.

"You're going to tell me why you have this right now," he demanded as sternly as he could muster.

"None of your goddamn business," the woman quietly snarled.

"It is my business. You bring a weapon into a hospital, so I'm likely to think you're some Cerberus spy."

The woman glared, but manage to control her fuming temper, "Don't you dare compare me to them, asshole. I found that to take care of some piece of shit that deserves to be hung, drawn, and quartered, but is about to get away with his life."

"I'm sure he'll be taken care of," Brandon said, curious to where she'd go next. Everyone on the _SR-2_ knew about the cyanide capsule in the teeth of all Cerberus personnel in case of capture, so he didn't fully buy her story. What he did accept were the sincerity of her emotions.

"No, they won't. He was former Alliance, so the bureaucrats want to see what he knows. He'll be in a cell getting food, and safety from those Reaper things. He'll survive while good people died because he thought helping Cerberus was a good idea. That meant shooting my husband and his wife."

Her friend averted his eyes to hide the pain in them.

"They were officers of this station. They survived the geth attack and they policed this place with their lives. But to be shot in the back by their friend? A fellow officer? I am not letting my husband's killer walk away."

"You do this you'll get caught. That'll be your entire life in prison. And if C-Sec has him, they won't let anyone near him…"

The woman's grief subsided for a moment, and her conviction faltered.

"… so I'll shoot him myself."

Both of them looked less surprised and more confused at Brandon's decision.

"I'm familiar with C-Sec, and everyone is still disorganized from the attack. Now would be the time to do it. And I can guarantee you he won't leave without a bullet in the head."

"That would be mercy compared to what I'd rather do to him," the woman said.

Her friend still appeared uneasy with the situation unfolding, so Brandon took charge once again.

"We do this my way or not at all. Okay?"

The woman looked to her friend as her mind was made. The man nodded, though a bit hesitantly.

"Good," Brandon said before gesturing to the friend, "Give me your jacket. You want this done, then help me sneak outta here."

After ensuring Doctor Michel was out of sight, Brandon disconnected the tubes from the I.V. drip and tossed on the brown leather jacket to hide his bandaged torso, getting helped to his feet by the couple. With the amount of wounded being tended to and other patients, it was fairly easy to escape to the elevator. The doors shut and the elevator started its slow descent to the Presidium.

Brandon unraveled the pistol, rolled up in a dirty towel, to reveal a M-358 Talon.

"I stole it from one of those Cerberus bastards. Fitting he should go by one of their guns," said the woman.

Brandon had been on the receiving end of one of these far more times than he'd like, so he knew them well. Small package and clip size, but with the close range capabilities of a portable shotgun. He checked the thermal clip was full, spun the cylinders clear, and discreetly tucked it under his jacket.

"He's locked in the holding cells. There's only one lone guard at the desk. Seeing as he betrayed C-Sec, they deliberately kept him isolated to keep others from doing the same," the woman continued.

"Listen, all I need you two to do is call the guard away from the desk. That's it. Signal me when you're ready. Soon as he is gone, I'll handle the rest."

The elevator pinged on the Presidium floor.

"Fine, but what's your plan for getting out? How are you going to avoid getting caught?" asked her friend.

The doors slid open.

"I'm not," Brandon answered, and quickly left them behind.

Despite being incredibly dizzy and tired, he managed to make his way towards the holding cells. Keeping close to the walls and using the handrails kept things looking semi-normal. Appearing sluggish or out of balance would alert concerned citizens and land him back at the hospital. Luckily, he found his way into the small lobby and took a seat on the bench.

"You have business here, human," the turian at the desk asked with a hint of a snarl.

"I was hoping to bump into Aultus and Quintus. Haven't seen them since the attack. Figured I'd try here."

The turian glared at him a little more closely, but then turned back to typing on his console.

The small breather gave Brandon the chance to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to do, but more importantly, to keep his breathing steady. Anything above normal breathing hurt his ribs. He closed his eyes and took deep breathes through his nose to calm his nerves. It was the first time he could; if he breathed through his nose in the hospital it would just smell of death.

The first sign of trouble was in the span it took him to calm down, the couple still hadn't come in to distract the turian. Brandon wondered if they'd gotten cold feet and bailed. However, the second clue took the form of a shadow encroaching over him and stopping perfectly still. He didn't even bother looking to see who it could have been.

"How'd you find me, Shepard?"

"Civilians have big mouths," she said as she folded her arms. Her stare wasn't berating, but it asked without words 'explain yourself'.

"There's a prisoner here. C-Sec officer who helped Cerberus. They caught him when you stopped the coup. Now he's offering them intel on Cerberus to get a better deal."

"And why are you telling me this?" she asked, even though he could tell she knew exactly what he planned to do.

"Because he doesn't deserve a better deal. He executed his own friends in cold blood for Cerberus, cleared the path for their troops. He got people killed during the coup. Good people. Now he's saying he's an Alliance vet, and he was suckered in by talk of helping humanity? I don't know what intel he has, and I don't really care either."

All Shepard did was arch a brow. "Don't give me this bullshit. You don't care about this guy. You don't really believe any of what you told me. Your pride's hurt so you decided to take it out on some asshole to make you feel better. You're trying to find an out, then C-Sec will arrest you and lock you up? This is more stupid than you trying to take on that assassin by yourself."

Any bravado Brandon had been trying to build up crumbled in an instant.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, almost saddened at his current state. "You're mad because you couldn't kill that assassin? Did Kasumi get hurt, so you're doing this for her?"

She didn't know.

"There's nothing I can do for a dead woman, Shepard," he finally admitted with a heavy heart.

Brandon never saw her reaction, but he did watch her feet do an about face and approach the turian at the desk.

"Officer, I'm Commander Shepard. You have a prisoner here, a Cerberus informant. I'm invoking spectre authority to take charge of him."

"That worthless piece of varren shit is the reason I lost three of my friends, Commander," the turian said before unlocking the door. "All yours."

Shepard gestured for Brandon, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

It had been a bit of a surprise, but Brandon followed Shepard into the holding cells. They finally found the one they were looking for. Blocked off by mass effect shields, a lone human with black hair sat alone in the room. His uniform was in taters with dried blood stains from his apparent broken nose. With a tap of her omni-tool, the shields dropped and the two let themselves in.

The prisoner didn't recognize Brandon, but he gripped the arms of his chair slightly when he saw Commander Shepard.

"Are you here to ensure I'm protected?"

Shepard casually moved towards the prisoner and backhanded him across his face, breaking his nose again.

"When you talk to an officer, you say 'ma'am'," Shepard ordered coldly.

The former soldier groaned as he clutched his bleeding nose, and had become visibly shaken under her presence.

Shepard gestured with her blood stained hand, shaking the droplets off, "Floor is yours. Just make it quick."

The prisoner looked at Brandon the same time he did. Suddenly, the prisoner became even more jittery in his seat as he realized what was happening.

"Wait… I… I've got com frequencies, intel, uh, data logs. They said-..."

Brandon withdrew the pistol and aimed it at the prisoner's head. It got very quiet and very tense very quickly. There was only a faint trickling from the metal floor as the prisoner pissed his pants.

Brandon's finger rested on the trigger. All it would take would be a simple squeeze. However, it didn't come as quickly as he hoped. His mind ordered his body not to hesitate and pull the trigger quickly without thought, yet a restraint kept him from doing it. The sympathetic part of his brain kept him thinking of how scared the prisoner was. It made his finger moved to the gun's side, and then he noticed the Cerberus logo on it. His posture was even similar to the Cerberus captain that killed Kelly; an executioner.

But that's when he thought of Kelly in the pool of her own blood, and Inamorda being cut down in front of him.

His brow narrowed…

Thane's coughs of his own blood grew louder than the prisoner's sobs.

… his finger moved back the trigger…

How insignificant his tears were to the asari, crying and begging in his arms as she bleed to death.

… slowly wrapping around the thin slit of metal…

And then flashes of Kasumi.

… then he slowly squeezed-

BANG

The prisoner's body went limp; his head slouched backwards after the round pierced right between his eyes.

Brandon exhaled slowly and lowered his weapon, somewhat stunned, and watched Shepard holster her still smoking Carnifex.

"I was ready to do it, Shepard," he nearly cursed to his superior.

"I know," she replied, "Then I decided I wasn't letting you go through with it. You're better than that."

"Who the hell says I have to be!?" he nearly growled.

"I've watched you teeter on that edge before, but tell me; how many times have you murdered someone in cold blood, Davis? Not killed, not shot, but executed with no chance?"

Brandon knew the answer as much as she did.

"That's right, so I'm not about to watch and let one of my crew start now. It wouldn't quench anything, Davis. And it doesn't matter how many bodies you bury, that feeling never goes away. All it does is get a little easier each time."

Brandon couldn't find any words to say to counter hers. Everything she was saying came from somewhere rarely seen or spoken. Something she lived and continues to live with.

"And for the record, whatever he knew, it wasn't worth what happened to this station. That's the reason you do it. Not for your own personal satisfaction."

She marched out the room; her words stewing in Brandon's head before he left the cell. Neither gave any mind to the dead body slightly twitching in the chair. This time the trickling on the floor came from the blood out of the back of his head.

* * *

Despite the gunshot, no one tried to stop them as they left the C-Sec office. The guard and any other officer had their backs deliberately turned to miss the incident. Brandon walked a distance from Shepard until she chose a spot by the lakes. No coincidence it was in front of the miniature mass relay, or the Conduit as it was discovered. Seemed like the appropriate place, given all the chaos. Ironically, the demael flowers around it had been spared an early death and continued blooming nicely.

Shepard leaned her arms against the railing and stared at the monument. Brandon slowly took a spot next to her and did the same. A long silence lapsed until Brandon broke it.

"Was… was Thane in a lot of pain?"

"No, he died at peace," she said, though she seemed slightly hesitant to say it. "That's more than most of us will get."

"What about Kaidan? I heard he was protecting the councilors?"

Shepard leaned forward on the handrail as she recanted the events.

"Cerberus behind us—the councilors in front of us. We were in the middle. My team lowered their weapons, but Kaidan wouldn't. Like any good soldier. I needed to stick with Udina if he tried something, but not with Kaidan in the way. I just asked him to trust me. He…"

Her grip tightened on the handrail, and the sides of her mouth shook.

"He… sided with me."

Then Brandon realized Shepard was trying to hold back her smile from getting too big. Had to admit, it had been a while since he'd seen Shepard happy.

"Of all the time Kaidan decides to listen to you, that'd be the one to pick. So Udina?" Brandon said his name with such a cold distastefulness; it was like sawdust in his mouth.

"Dead," she replied just as coldly, but a wicked grin spread on her face, "Would have preferred burning him at the stake, but I guess a gunshot'll do."

"Yeah, you know I hated his guts like everyone else, but this wasn't his style. And for Cerberus? I mean, why were they here anyway? There's no motivation."

"Oh no, there's a reason. If Cerberus is one thing, it's logical. Might be insane, but there's always logic."

"Which we don't know?"

"Which we don't know," she admitted. "I have Liara checking her contacts, but I'm not holding my breath. And speaking of, who was that guy with the sword?"

Shepard directed the question to Brandon, and even he looked dumfounded.

"Why are you asking me? You usually know most of the people trying to kill you."

"From what Liara told me, it's not the first time you've bumped into him."

"Apart from being Cerberus, he's definitely former military, and highly trained in it. That's all I got."

"I'll contact the higher ups. They might know more than we do."

"Bet Mr. Illusive is tending to his pet right now."

Shepard was smirking again.

"What?"

"Kasumi called him that."

He swallowed the forming lump in his throat and pushed back against the emotions that were draining the life out of him.

"Yeah, she… she did, didn't she?"

"You going to be alright?" she asked, almost too sincerely coming from her.

"You saw me at my lowest on Omega, Shepard. You know I've been through this… all of this before... but this time…" he had to stop to keep the break out of his voice; his composure just barely holding together. "I don't think I can do it again. I loved her too damn much."

Self-control continued to be tested, but the public place was the most probable reason he didn't break down again. Not surprisingly, Shepard noticed the internal turmoil put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"If you want to end your life, end it. You don't have to kill yourself to do that. Take it from someone who's done both."

A small gasp of a laugh managed to come through Brandon's lowly state, but it was just enough to not feel so lonely.

"I think we have a visitor," said Shepard, nudging in the direction of an approaching salarian.

Bau approached the pair with an ice pack tapped to his head and a white container under his arm.

"First, I learn you had escaped from the hospital, and not too long later, I get a call that a potential source of intel had been found shot dead in his holding cell."

While neither showed any worry from the news, they had no look of surprise either.

"He's been with me the whole time, Bau," Shepard happily admitted.

"That fact doesn't alleviate my suspicions, Commander," Bau stressed.

Shepard tapped the railing a few times then pushed herself up.

"We're not shipping out for a few days, so you know where to find me," she said to Brandon before walking past the other spectre.

Now alone with Bau, it felt like a teacher about to scold a child for rough housing, especially after they had clearly been warned not to.

"If you're here to finally arrest me for whatever it is, do what you want. I really don't care anymore."

"No, I think you've had enough bad news for one day."

"Thanks. Um, sorry about the punch," Brandon said, more out of shame than apology.

"It wasn't as bad as the tea in the face. In truth, I came by to bring you this. The hospital still had your personal effects."

Bau handed Brandon the container.

"I went back with some men to clean up the embassies. Some bodies and… pieces… found were indistinguishable, or had no usable traces to help identify. With the influx of refugees, it's to be expected but…"

Brandon shuffled through his stuff, half listening to the salarian. _Arondight_ was still there, albeit unloaded. The sleeve of his coat was ripped open from the assassin's blade.

"… she never had any trace of herself in any database. No bloodwork, DNA, dental, so it can't be positive."

Any hints of hope shattered when Brandon lifted the scorched hood from the bottom of the pile. He had stuffed it into his coat pocket when he left the office. He couldn't help but run his thumbs over it one more time.

"It's hers," he said, handing it over.

He didn't have to say it; Bau knew what it was as soon as he saw it. And the salarian held it with the same reverence as Brandon had. His shoulders slumped and the look of forlorn showed for the first ever time he'd seen on the spectre.

"I'm sorry, Bau," he said, knowing the pain all too well.

"What for?"

"That you never got the chance to tell her."

"Regret is not something easy to live with, and I truly can't say I do feel it. You were the one who had something real, Brandon. I truly am sorry. If it's any consolation, I'll close out her file."

For some reason, that made him feel worse. Kasumi was a ghost. Any kind of rap sheet about her could only be speculative, so if even that, from a spectre, labeled her deceased then it would be the closest official document to say so.

"Bau," Brandon stood up as straight and held out his hand. "It's been a pleasure."

"No, the pleasure was mine," the spectre said, managing a small smirk.

Bau departed, and the docks were where Brandon's finger pressed in the elevator. Home was where he wanted to be, and he endured a hazy walk back to the _Razgriz_. It was still as he left it; the hole on the wing mangled and torn. However, the hatch had been pried open. He didn't even bother retrieving his pistol before stepping into the ship. A few smashed dishes, and some hastily opened lockers and doors, yet, nothing taken. If Kelly had been hunted down so thoroughly, it had to have been Cerberus checking if they'd been inside. He dropped his container on the kitchen counter and started picking up the broken pieces. For once, it was something normal and automatic that could distract him from feeling like a lifeless shell-

A palmed hand smashed his head against the wall. His eyes closed at the initial thumping, and his nerves were so shot he didn't even know what had happened until the cold feel of steel pinched across his throat. In his state of exhaustion, it was too much work to try to fight. After everything he had done, getting killed by a lone assailant in his own ship seemed petty. For Brandon's own pride, he opened his weary eyes to ensure he could spit right into death's face. One thing he noticed was death had bad breath and was very panicked; not the ease and calm of an assassin. It was a high paced rhythm, like a varren fighting for its life. The form was similar to a Cerberus phantom, ready to kill him in a moment's time, but she didn't. The suit once formerly white and black was charred gray with rips, tears, and singed all over. Her left forearm had been bandaged with bloodied cloths and barely covered the reddening of her wound. The shorter blade lying across his neck had stains of crimson from whichever souls had met their fate. Her pale skin was dirty with dried lines where she had been cut or bruised. One just beside her cheek from a small nick. The smudge of a purple bruise on her forehead. And no hood to cover her furiously disheveled black hair.

Brandon blink a few tired times, not truly believing who was in front of him. Cautious, as if she would disappear, he reached a hand out to the side of her face. It was so similar to that time in his ship so long ago. Now, it was him who needed to be sure she was alive and real, not some torturous dream.

Slowly, the knife lowered from his throat.

"Bran… Brandon?" Kasumi whispered, as her panicked breaths calmed.

Soft hands cradled his head to her chest, he could feel her heart beating. They didn't care that they were covered in dust and blood, they just stayed embrace in the depths of the ship.


End file.
